


Makeshift Lovers

by tzingfung



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bisexual Clark Kent, Catfishing, Daddy Kink, Eventual Romance, Fisting, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Heavy Drinking, Multi, Mutual Pining, Online Dating, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Sex Work, Sitcom, Spanking, Sugar Daddy, love triangle (I KNOW I KNOW), shifting pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:04:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzingfung/pseuds/tzingfung
Summary: You and Clark Kent, old friends with a hidden desire for something more, but as your life is full of hiccups, you fall before you could reach there. Now you have found someone else, Bruce Wayne, a sugar daddy, but he doesn't just have eyes for you. a premature joke turns into something real.





	1. Episode One

**Author's Note:**

> It was almost a year ago, a reoccurring thought for a fic sprouted out of thin air from time to time and wouldn't let me go in peace. It was only supposed to be small, done in a matter of days, and yet here we are. A year on, finally showing some progress.
> 
> I want to say a few things, this is obviously not a poke at real sex workers (they're incredible), this is a cheesy, nonsensical piece, deliberately full of tropes, drama and terrible writing devices that plays out like a teenage sitcom, and also it's just a 'fun' little piece, I say that word lightly as there are some pretty dark and sad moments that I hope you enjoy either way!
> 
> Fair warning there's some consent issues in the first chapter (kissing without consent). 
> 
> Finally, I want to dedicate this fic for my lovely Angie, because I said so and promised so, too long ago. Also, because she was one of the few people that was originally hyped up for this. HEY, SHE'S COOL THAT WAY.

**PART I.**  
Clark Kent, a young man who at first glance would be assumed to have cruised on by in life with much ease. There was a fleeting breeze of carelessness that scrutinised his face before a light-hearted smile would crack him wide open, pouring that delicate sunny disposition to the world. It would bring the darkest of days into dazzling light. He also knew how to spin a situation on its heels, make all the blackest coal into gold. Calling him an all perfect kind of guy just wouldn't cut it, he was abnormally perfect, almost extraterritorial.

And you'd joke about that a lot too.

"Sometimes I think you're some sort of alien." you slipped your piece of knowledge one winter's day.

"Why'd you say that?" He responds with the usual diligence ringing in your ears and that chuckle that seesawed the air between the two of you.

"You're so nice, almost _too_ nice, and how could anyone be this good looking? Seriously you're out of this world."

" _Wow, so original._ "

His eyes rolled dramatically in surefire annoyance but the smile that was lit on his face soon after would say otherwise.

"That wasn't supposed to be a compliment." Your voice marched into a faux pus seriousness and soon enough his same old laughter would set sail once more, easing any livid tension, making your own lips crack up a little.

Clark has been your friend since you two were tiny carefree kids, knocking each other's teeth out and breaking your first bones together. Adventure has been coursing through your veins since day one, and it had a name. _His_ name.

So it wasn't a surprise when you reached the meagre years of early adulthood whereupon life hit a crossroad and you're expected to be everything and nothing all at once.

You both ended up in the same university and majored the same course and it was destiny winking down from some high cloud somewhere up above in the sky, shouting down complimentary advice in the most tripe of ways. A cliché. That's what it all was. Everything too perfect between the two of you, almost too sweet for your teeth to take. How could it be that good?

Could it be that good?

Others already suggested the two of you should get together.

"Fucking crazy."

You would have none of it.

"Is it really, though?"

Your other college friend, Adélaïde with the funny "i" she'd always used to mock before anyone could take a mention (because hell, that's how everyone else described it) as she scratched the side of her mouth disinterested, pondered out loud. You even remember the fact that on that day, she had her hair wrapped in a high blonde bun and her snake bite piercings would pull in attention from a mile away, like a large pompous zit on a shining forehead. She also had a funny way of showing her affection, something that would throw off anyone else that would show any interest in her at first hand.

Maybe ‘friend' was an exaggeration.

But she was always there for you when no one else was.

Like that one time, when everything went ass up and you were that much off your axis that every sense of comfort was alienated and thrown aside, and there just in that blimp of time you had nothing. An unanchored soul making its way into existence, living to exist and there be it, just that.

That one time was when you were at that particular party. It stood up on ends, a piece of a jigsaw puzzle gone missing. You could tell what the picture was going to be but it still measured up your frustration, something you could never shake off or forget.

You stood outside of the crooked looming attached modest house, feeling mildly unamused. There was nothing special about it, it stood uniformed, and just as ugly as it's brothers on each side of it. Something three students could room and afford with, you guessed.

Clark was invited, not much of a surprise to anyone, he had always been more popular than you, anyway. The Nice Boy, the Perfect Man and everyone's favourite guy. So when he invited you to come tag along and bring a friend, you couldn't hide the small astoundment.

"But I don't know anyone there?"

He gripped a hand tightly around your shoulder and you felt your whole body slack a little under the pressuring weight.

"Hey, it's a house party that's the gist of it all. It's fun when you don't know anyone."

_Huh. Really?_

 

You rimmed your lips under the cap of one of the few beer bottles you brought, taking in the atmosphere as you did so.

Your leather shorts dug uncomfortably deep around your thighs and you scratched the back of one foot with the other in discomfort and of all assortments of contemplations.

"Having second thoughts?"

"Ha… ha, ha, ha."

"Or having symptoms of hysteria, maybe?"

Adélaïde brought the already half empty bottle of Jack to her dark plum lips, puckering up to sip, with a loud obnoxious smack, partnered with the vibrations of her hand smacking your ass making you curse under your breath.

"What was that for?"

"Trying to snap you out of it."

"Shit, Adélaïde you got a funny way of showing it."

She just winks and flips the bird in your face before swaggering off to the front door where the beats were poised and weakly succumbed.

That's the thing with Adélaïde, she has no fucking control.

Her heels scratched the pavement in a slow, sickly movement until the pause resembled the thud of your heart in anticipation, a beat, and then you followed and right on queue, the front door swung wide open.

You and Adélaïde stared at each other with bright eyes as the shallow depths of the party commodity poured out into the moonlit streets.

Quickly snatching up the bottle of Jack into your own hands, you take a large gulp feeling the burn run thickly down to somewhere in your chest where it flamed out and your heart jolted with electricity.

"You got this." Addie mentions with the vibrations of the music through her teeth.

"You bet I do."

Both waltzing into the cladded mass of raving bodies that rejuvenated to the juggling beats, the stench of fuming bodily fluids and broken rasping breaths of alcohol clung deeply into the atmosphere.

"Want me to take the excess drinks?"

"Just leave me two bottles."

Adélaïde's eyebrow shot up in question.

"One for me, one for Clark."

A smile elapsed her face in confidence.

"Like I said, you got this."

The two of you went your separate ways and you could now feel the drench of sweat clad your own skin profusely. You reached a fork in the milling crowd and that was where you saw him. Through the cliques of students, was the boy you knew the whole of your life, the one that would smile and create craters in your heart.

He would carry you home on that one blasted day, years before, when youth itself was still young and the bones in your feet were crippled and broken, he had a swollen ankle too but that didn't matter, not to him. Adventure wormed its way in your life the worst of times. He was the boy you want to date. And as Adélaïde had said, "fucking finally."

Clark gradually appeared peering through the army of gyrating limbs. He noticed you looking around cluelessly and waved you over. Worming through the obstacles of people overflowing with drinks, tables with toppling plastic cups and people playing beer pong — one of the balls almost smacked you square on the forehead — you reached him, finally, where he was sitting on a brown leather sofa that has definitely seen better days.

"Hey, you." He greeted with his infamous grin.

"Hey, what you doing?"

"You know, watching the lifestyle documentary unfold." His arms flourished out, opening up the scene beyond the two of you.

"People watching with style again?"

"Number one place to be for it, Babe."

"Uh huh, smooch over a little, will you?"

"Babe? You two a thing?"

It was Clark's best friend sitting beside him on the other side of the deflating sofa. What was his name again? Heath? Harper? H-

"Hal, seriously?"

_Ouch. Arrow to the heart._

Clark had been calling you Babe since the early days, when you visited his farm after school once upon a time, the sun was rich with all of summer's luscious glory and you were in a very small and very cute blue and white pinstripe dungarees and there was Clark with his up to his knees denim shorts, holes peeking through the bottom with overuse, shirt rolled up his arms and a straw hat to match that real farmer look. Really, he only wore it because you kept pestering him about not being a real farmer without one. So untrue, did he care though? He just liked the smile that lit on your face when he decided you were right.

The heat rolled thickly in the air, and your breathing was restricted to the usual huff and puff through exasperated gasps of delight at the animals.

"There's so many!"

"Yup, mama and papa said they get loads of customers because of it."

"Oooh! A piglet! What's her name, Clark? Can you name her after me, please Clark, please?!"

He giggles, opening the pen and taking the small piglet out, holding it out gently for you to pet.

"She's already named Babe!"

"Ooh! Babe… I love that name."

He looks at you gleefully, "Me too! I'm going to call you Babe, your new nickname!"

"Why, because I'm a pig too?" Your beady eyes looked at him angrily.

"No, because you and Babe are my favourites and mama calls me that because she loves me and says that people who love each other call each other that."

"You love me, Clark?" You asked curiously.

"Of course I do! You're the best!"

"I love you too, Clarky." You both giggled at that while petting little piglet, Babe.

And it stuck, just like that. A tradition as old as your friendship began. And a stupid one at that. Couldn't shake it off even if you wanted to.

"Seriously, what?" Hal had nudged up, sloshing his red cup with suspicious concoction between his barely clothed thighs.

"Go. Away."

"For real, Clark? Wanna chat with the lady!"

"Fuck off, Hal."

"Alright, alright."

There was a pregnant pause where his arms were up in defence and he looked between the two of you with an all-knowing pervasive stare, one you'd wish you could forget before he took off into the darkness.

"No offence, Clark, but… ew."

"Yeah, I know _ew_ is probably the best descriptive word we could personify Hal into and that still wouldn't paint half of it."

You ushered him closer. Among the buzz and loud crowds, you were together alone in that small bubble. Exactly what you wanted right from the very beginning.

"So why are you guys friends?"

He just shrugs and takes a large sip of his drink, watching the drama before him from his very speculative couch unfold with rowdy cheers and spilt drinks sloshing memorable stains on the carpet.

"Why are we friends?" You suddenly thought, not realising you said it out loud for him to hear too.

He spun his head surprised, seeing your head down and fiddling with your hardly touched beer.

"Why wouldn't we be? You make half my life up."

You looked up with the same temperament of surprise he had, one glance was all it took for both of you to flush in the cheeks and start darting looks around the room, trying to find something to take the edge of the distilling awkward air.

But there was no way out of it now.

After all, this was why you were here.

"You do too."

"What?"

Someone dialled up the music, the tune bounced and vibrated the walls and the floor, kicking you in the teeth.

"I said, you are half of my life! You mean so much to me, Clark, a whole damn world's worth!"

Confession after confession.

"Babe- "

Words came spewing and spewing out until...

"I- it's not that I..."

There was obscurity in his eyes, he bit his lip intently and you got the picture right away.

How could you have been so stupid? So wrong? So sure of the most popular guy around actually being interested back?

"Clark- no look it's fine I get it, I'm not like the girls you hang with, I don't even get along well with your friends. I'm sorry I even brought it up."

You got up and stormed off into the awakening crowds, hearing the small flutter of his voice dense in the background.

_"Wait!"_

But you didn't, how could you sit around and do such thing, when you feel the embarrassment coil around your body like poison ivy. It was a miracle that you stood up and strode off with any dignity at all, considering how long you have been planning this moment. This damn near perfect moment.

" _Hey, girlfriend_!"

Hal spots you and shouts across the corridor sarcastically, you wanted to dodge him but he was blocking the only plausible exit that didn't mean bumping back into Clark again.

"Not now, Hal."

He slammed his palm to the wall you were standing in front of, ricocheting a thicket of distressful thuds, pinning his body to yours. Stuck between the wall and his body filtered with his hot breath thick with alcohol and the sweat that clung promisingly to his body you had no room to manoeuvre.

"If not now then when, _Babe?"_

"Don't call me that." You snapped instantly.

Bad idea.

He punches the wall with his other hand and your head is jammed between two thick muscular walls. You wondered for a second if he felt his knuckles broke on impulse or whether he was too drunk and numbed it out.

Your second fleeting thought was the ringing that dimmed your hearing, markedly. Now scarce of any other logical thought, you were pretty much fucking terrified. It was no secret he had drinking issues and all his buttons were already pressed as soon as you stepped over the threshold.

"Sorry. I mean that's what I should call you, m-maybe call me something else, more… exciting. You're an exciting guy right, Hal?"

Your eyes darted back and forth between his devilish drooling diluted stare and the gaps around his body attempting to feed a way out to an exit.

But how?

"Some other girls say I am… exciting in bed."

Jesus, he's so drunk. Drunk fucking trash.

"Oh, I bet." You say flirtatiously, playing along while fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

He was taking the bait, a small slur of a smile gleamed and he stared down at you. He really was a dufus.

"You can see for yourself if you want."

He winks and you felt bile colliding with your oesophagus.

"Not so fast."

You brought a finger to his lips and he melted on touch, his eyes closed involuntarily.

He drops an arm and uses the other to stroke your hair. You shiver slightly, feeling like you need to bathe ASAP.

The breeze where his arm left, flushed your skin and your eyes shifted fast to your left seeing the opening.

"We should take it slow, play around a little."

You keep on going and he nods, you're about to run when he starts kissing your neck as you looked away towards your exit

"What the fuck, Hal?!"

He caught you by surprise, some more when he continued as if he wasn't interrupted.

"Come on, babe, you like it, really."

"Stop calling me that, stop touching-"

He brings you closer, a rough bruising kiss on the lips, wet and full of the strong taste of maize from the beer.

_"What are you two doing?"_

It was Clark!

"Clark! Please-"

This was when you were able to shove Hal out of the way successfully before he could snatch you again. You were inches away from Clark once more.

"Babe, you're better than him-"

"I know that Clark and that's-"

"-and he just plays around, you're the type of person who's looking for something serious, you go on about that all the time."

You sigh, he's not stopping his ramblings.

"Yes, true and that's why-"

"-and don't you hate him?"

"Clark please, stop and listen."

You were getting desperate for him to stop his spiel.

"To what? You trying to cover up the fact that there's nothing here when it's obvious to the naked eye that every fucking possible thing is happening."

"You're hurt but this is not what it looks like, I swear."

"You're really going with that line? You're such a cliché, wow."

It hurt to hear him say that especially with the tone he used, such force, such anger.

He's never like this.

"Clark."

"No seriously, just shut up and listen to me."

He has never been this violent with his words before especially with you. He pointed a finger at your chest and it wavered. He must have been drinking a few more drinks since you saw him last.

Clark's never been really drunk, that was never his style… was it? You didn't know anymore. You thought he liked you back but what else could you have been so wrong about with him?

You buttoned up, nevertheless.

He takes a thick deep breath, his teeth clumsily snagging his lower lip as he did. He holds himself upright on one of your shoulders and you reluctantly help him become steady as he closes his eyes.

"Maybe you should just rest."

He shushes you and you allow him.

"Remember that time you did mouth to mouth with Gross Gabe thinking he passed out from the heat but he was just napping and everyone in lecture hall watched and were witnesses to the biggest mistake in history."

You didn't answer but smiled sheepishly at the turn of events. A lighter subject, it's what you wanted from him all along.

His laugh, like always wrapped you in that comfort blanket shrouding any of the useless yappings you had seconds before.

"But what about that time you drank so much that you went over a bender kissed Laura Graham and her brother and puked on both of their shoes straight after and tried to make out with them right after, last year?"

"Well yeah, you, your friends, your fucking family's friend's cousins wouldn't allow me to forget that one."

Clark was laughing a low husky laugh now, slouching back down the wall that you were once pinned on moments ago. As he sat on the floor you followed, smiling at the melodic chuckle.

"And the time when I was still living on the farm and you were staying over and homesick as hell, crying silently at night so I took you to the forest out back as a surprise, to show you the fireflies."

You grin to yourself at the blissful memory, something you cherished many times. A reach to home to feel better and whole again on the darkest nights.

A personification of the love you had for Clark.

"I'll never forget."

Clark looks at you now and you look back, a breath away from touching each other's faces. There was a cry for a silence that never showed mercy to you, you supposed because the next thing Clark said was something you wish you didn't hear out of your own sanity's sake.

"You were about to ask me out earlier, weren't you?"

"..No." You hiccuped quickly, it was an obvious lie.

He looks down as if doubting his choices as if rethinking his whole life, would it have been easier just without you.

Then before you could say anything more, he gets up.

"It doesn't matter now anyway." He looked at Hal then back at you.

He went before you could stutter the many words that were forming in your mind.

_It wasn't what it looks like._

_I was forced..._

_Hal is a fucking dick and we all know it, don't trust him over me._

_I really care for you, Clark._

 

**PART I-II.**  
It was three forty-five am, Clark dipped his cigarette between his chapped lips before flicking it elegantly to the pavement crunching smoothly the ambers out under the heel of his Adidas sneakers.

He was on the roof of the student accommodation that was partnered with Gotham City University. A modest coop with a 5-star view of Gotham's skyline on the rooftop. Just where Clark stood, above the thicket of ambitious skyscrapers and the measly burning down of the economy. Right on the edge, where one more step was simply thin raspy air.

Clark inhaled deeply, the breeze was cold and moist and it felt like his lungs had been flushed out and renewed.

_This was the life._

And in this in-between moment prior to any reminder of life's worries and woes, he was able to enjoy the succulent taste of pure existence and living.

"I wish I could fly." He wondered out loud. "If I could feel the air even more than I am feeling it now."

His hands expanded and the thinly layered gust manoeuvred through the gaps of his wandering fingers.

"Ha, thought you'd be here."

The voice made Clark jump and before he could feel like the actual sensation of flying he spun back and jumped off the edge back to the safety net of reality and hard concrete life.

"Hal! Fuck me, I almost fell... shit."

"Fat lot of good that'll do to your luck of getting a girl, then again not much going for you anyway."

_What a prick._

He plumps up on the old scrapped sofa sleuthing on the side against the wall and cracked open a cold beer can.

"I, on the other hand, have always been better looking."

He sips and exhales as the breeze once again whipped around Clark's clothes.

"Hal, it's 3 am what the hell are you drinking for?"

"Conquering the world, my pal!"

He tips up his can at Clark and the latter just rolls his eyes before slumping in the rain-stained sofa in defeat.

"You finally turned in that assignment, didn't you?"

"Yep."

"At 23:59, I bet."

"Yep." He repeated.

"Whatever have you been doing in between then and now?"

"Umm."

"Okay, you know what? Never mind, I don't want to hear it."

Clark shook his head hard but a mischievous glare dawned on Hal.

"Well here's the thing." He used hand gestures to signal various innuendos and Clark cringes.

"I said I don't want to hear it."

"You're not hearing it, you're seeing it."

"Ew, just ew."

"Uh huh okay, I thought we were the _No Judgement Duo_ but here we are. Breaking up the band, the pact, the bond?"

"Chill Hal, I just don't want to visualise you in those uh, angles."

"Stop faking it, Clarky, you know you want some of this."

He smacks his ass and Clark inwardly cringes once more but finishes off with a laugh.

"Please, just stop. I'm going to have nightmares tonight."

Hal picks up his can of Carlsberg and sloshes it to Clark, he takes it decidedly, looking at it in thought rather taking a sip. Hal's eyebrows lifted.

"Suit yourself. So why you call me here in the wee hours of daylight and hellish mourn."

"I need your advice."

Clark didn't look up once but he already knew Hal's eyes lit up like headlights in a storm. A collision collided in Clark's mind, he took a mental step back wondering if Hal was ever the denominator to any equation.

"Oooh, need daddy's advice?"

"Please don't- never say that again"

He shrugs and nudges Clark and Clark rolled the can of beer between his palms, dryly. The liquid within sloshed with a metallic ping.

And at once Clark breathed out in a rush and blur as to rid the situation as fast as he could.

"I don't know I just really want to-"

"You want to date _her_ don't you?"

"How'd you know?"

Hal got up and started pacing back and forth in front of him, rubbing his thumb and index finger around his sharp chin.

"I don't know just-" He nicks the can back with a _yoink!_ "-you always talk about her and you know? It's about time you get some and all."

"Wow okay, why did I ever think you'd be the one I should ask for some solid serious advice?"

"No sorry, bud, look just tell me what's up, no games, no mumbo jumbo, 100% genuine real talk here." Hal crosses his heart as he nods to show his trust and authenticity.

Clark inhales and blew out a puff of smoke into the fresh air, he wrung his hands feeling the nerves tie tight knots in his stomach, even the thought of it all makes his heart do a somersault on a diving board into a pool of euphoria.

"I _am_ going to ask her out, finally, but not because I just want to-"

_"Fuck?"_

"Christ sake, Hal."

"Dude I'm joking, let me still make jokes."

Clark shakes his head in disbelief there was a stilling quiet pause before anyone said anything again.

"You want some real advice? I'd say go for it. Follow your heart, cheesy as fuck but you know it's the right thing to do here, Clark, especially with what you two have gone through together or whatever."

_Which was a lot._ Clark concluded.

"You have doubts because you're going to break that holy friendship of yours but it's all bullshit really. You're living in this fantastical bubble, you already developed feelings for her so there's no turning back now."

"You're right…"

"And how do you know she doesn't feel the same way? You two are super close and all."

"You're right," Clark repeats, allowing the weak morning sunshine wash over his squinting eyes. How did time go by so fast up here?

"I know I am, I'm always right. You go for it, bro."

He takes a deep breath and exhales as if that was all it took.

"Yeah. I will."

And so he planned it all, each singular step, down to the fold of his knee-length denim shorts.

"Really?"

Hal inquired with a humorous disgusted scrunch to the face looking at the chosen outfit for the plan.

"She likes me in these."

"Uh huh."

Hal threw the stick of his now famished lollipop to the floor, in utter disbelief.

 

Clark deliberately invited her to the party, knowing it would be just as crap as it had been, enough for them to linger and socialise, enough so he could pop the question (the less expensive kind).

And she sat beside him, looking gorgeous and flourishing with her top knot bun, tight leather shorts and the sharp highlights on her face making her whole image shimmer like a goddess seeing earth's first light on the ground.

"Hey, what you doing?"

She asked with the cherry pop suck to the end of her line, punctuating every word sweetly. He could snuggle into her right now.

_I can get swept into those words, just like that_. A mental click of the fingers.

She sits down making the soft sofa deflate some more.

"You know, watching the lifestyle documentary unfold."

She darts a look between the buzzing crowds and back at Clark with a bemused devilish smile biting down at her lip, they chat a bit before she makes Clark shimmy over, which he does reluctantly, falling into the arms of Hal cutting a knowing look and elbowing his ribs as if he needed a signal in the first place.

"Babe? You two a thing?"

_For fuck sake, Hal, screwing everything over again with his craptrap. It's a fucking miracle that he hadn't caused any fuck ups with me before. Better shut this down before it's too late._

"Hal, seriously?" Clark mouths obscuring her vision to see his obscenity. _I will fucking kill you if you don't shut up._

He didn't get it, but the smile said otherwise.

"Seriously, what?"

Clark was exasperated, suddenly his energy drained into the sinking pool of whatever opportunity he originally had here, maybe it is now or never.

"Go. Away."

"For real, Clark? Wanna chat with the lady!"

_My lady._

Hopefully…

"Fuck off, Hal."

There were no short straws here but a split second of pity when he saw the hurt flash in Hal's drunken ditzy eyes.

"Alright, alright."

There was an auditory second as if paused on a television between breaks before he got up and left the two best friends alone.

In between the dots was a blur, Clark could have sworn there was more to it but maybe there wasn't. Maybe that was guilt, but guilt was a familiar substance, what he had felt was broken embers of anger, a lost emotion between the bloody spit of his first and last fight years ago.

But that was all **after**.

"No offence, Clark, but… ew."

Clark's head bobbed side to side, a little tired, a little-worn down.

"Yeah, I know _ew_ is probably the best descriptive word we could personify Hal's ugly personality and that still wouldn't paint half of it."

She swept into him closer, much like a small gust of wind swooning past your ears.

"So why are you guys friends?"

He instinctively looked away. She always thought she was better than him, always acted out that way, did she know that? The way she bore into him now, the all-knowing demeaning glare, stating all that Clark had made were mistakes and continues to live with it willingly, while she stood outside protesting silently, almost smiling, _oh, how you could do better like me._ But no, he's drunk, he's overthinking, she's all caring, that's all she is and that's why Clark likes her a lot, a whole lot.

But there was that thing…

Was that why it took so long for _this?_ To see if he was so sure.

"Why are we friends?"

That spiked an arrow to Clark's heart. He looks at her quickly, she was looking anxious, feeling the cold beer bottle and giving it all her attention.

Then it hit him.

"Why wouldn't we be? You make half my life up."

If you had asked him if that was orchestrated, planned, scripted for the night like it was so well laid out, he would mutter stupidly that it wasn't, he surprised even himself on this one. An uncured feeling raining down on him all at once.  
  
"You do too."

It was not expected either.

_Wait._ "What?"

Clark hadn't thought this far it was possibly to do with the earlier doubts, the ones that shivered down his small sense of pride and dignity, that she thinks lowly of him that there was a secret he couldn't muster up to believe, even when it was his own. He truly knew he deserved that but he couldn't live with it. It was cruising the open ocean with a bottomless boat, he had made no sense of them together at one point, was it too late to back down? Could he cash in his deep profound feelings for a full refund?

His eardrums din in tune with the upbeat blasting music only sinking into higher volumes creating unheard barriers between them.

"-half of my life?! You mean… world's worth!"

Clark was squinting adhering his ears as much as he could but he couldn't make the whole of it.

"Babe-"

Was she really angry with what he just said? His confession about her being half of all he is?

His defences were lit up, he didn't expect her to question it so squarely.

Nerves got the best of him.

And he supposed the excess drinking. _Thanks, Nerves._

"I- it's not that I…"

"Clark- no look it's fine I get it, I'm not like the girls you hang with, I don't even get along well with your friends. I'm sorry I even brought it up."

She got up and left before his mind could wrap it all up, before Clark's heart could stop its small dance and jump back into the reality bandwagon, before he could continue to say-

_-It's not that I don't like being friends, truly I do but god it's on a spiritual level when I hang with you, the way you breathe out a laughter or I could almost hear you say what you were going to say moments after, we're a huge fucked up predicament, maybe two sides of the world but we somehow work but by god, once I started thinking of something, even more, I could not take my mind off you, even for a second._

But all he could burst out in a hummer was- "Wait!"

 

It wasn't until the untimely Clark Kent, dosed himself with the whole quantity of a keg and dug his own grave in the backyard (quite literally, his drunken self a theatrical god, is not to be messed with) he took a tipsy turn back into the flourishing lights of the house and into the narrow depths of the empty hollow corridor that fell away from the hefty crowds and cheers of the party but with leftovers of ghostly echoing cheers and miraculous laughter bouncing off the walls.

Though it wasn't so empty as he wanted it to be.

"-touching."

There dosed in raw yellowish artificial lighting that sloshed side to side being tormented to the deluxe bangings of the kids next door and the horrifying scene in front of him, it was resembling very uncanny like of the alcoholic fluids that rode through his stomach in an uneasy manner, especially now with what he needn't see.

"What are you two doing?"

His eyes crossed and he shook it off with the shake of his head making him topple to the wall, they heavily relied their hot makeout sess on.

There was an atrocity of slurring of words, a mess of overthrowing one's conversing with another. She wasn't giving up her game and he wasn't either.

"Clark please, stop and listen."

"To what? You trying to cover up the fact that there's nothing here when it's obvious to the naked eye that every fucking possible thing is happening."

That just came out. He opted such or bile would be running down his lips.

She looked hurt enough to make him wince for a second.

"You're hurt but this is not what it looks like, I swear."  
  
"You're really going with that line? You're such a cliché, wow."  
  
"Clark."

He cringes at the mention of his name and points a finger to her chest, it wavered on its axis.

"No seriously, just shut up and listen to me."

She did just that.

But the alcohol flourished in his mind and all sparks of thoughts were suddenly washed ashore. A storm brewed in its stead.

Taking a deep breath where it caught with the snag of his teeth and bloodied bitten lips, he held onto her reluctantly as he tried to prove his point.

She mentions about resting but he tuts and shooshes her.

And there, he started to smile.

"Remember that time you did mouth to mouth with Gross Gabe thinking he passed out from the heat but he was just napping and everyone in lecture hall watched and were witnesses to the biggest mistake in history."  
  
A small smile painted her lips.

Going off at a tantrum anyway he lists every moment he felt that small spark of electricity entice him. When she became a friend, to something more closer to his heart.

"You were about to ask me out earlier, weren't you?"  
  
"..No." Her voice was small, fragile like a bird with a broken wing attempting to fly again.

He was seconds away from leaving her, for good this time. Leaving her muse in whatever sexual tension she had between herself and Hal, who was being a conceited fucklord minding his own business in the background, fiddling with his fucking thumbs.  
  
"It doesn't matter now anyway."  
  
It slipped out mindlessly.

 

When Clark reached back home, the dripping of the kitchen tap and the tinkering of the fly zapper was all that welcomed him. He allowed himself to sink into the darkness, on his bed that welcomingly hugged him into the warmest of its depths.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?"

A question often asked, more than once a week, even more than twice a day these days. And correctly so, as he assessed the many fuck ups of just that one spectacle of a night.

But then he remembered her and every fuse in his mind was lit with a burning flame.

"What a bitch. What a fucking asshole for making me feel this shitty after everything, after all, we had-" He smashed a fist into his pillow, then another and another until the beatings were so swallowed up it no longer looked fatigued from anything.

"I'll show her."

A thought, an epiphany sprouted through his frustration like a wildflower through the rough grounds of war, and it was all that could untangle the small ounce of hope to do anything for this situation. To take it by its horn and get a little sense of ownership and control.

Clark unearthed his liquorice black laptop under the pile of dirty clothes at the end of his bed and marvelled at the login screen. It blurred his eyes until he could no longer stare without a bright rectangular centrepiece enticing his vision.

He knows what to do, he's seen it on TV enough times to count.

_This is crazy shit but what she done was crazy shit._ His drunken mind slurred. So, you know, fight fire with fire and all that.

He tapped the keys in a melancholic but furious manner and out came the best result of the evening.

He typed everything out. Found one quite astoundingly pretty picture of her on Facebook, that now pulled disgust out of his heart and wrenching stomach, he uploaded it to the site.

And he was done.

Except for one more thing.

**(1)Notification**

Perfect timing. Almost like fate.

He rushes to see who it may be and smiles at the image. A perfect match made in heaven, Onto a small introduction and he was ready for the kill.

And as satisfied as he was, Clark's drunken head slapped steadfast to the cover of his laptop where his job was just about done.


	2. Episode Two

**PART II.**  
The stench of mildew flared in your nostrils as you grasp a large intake of it while starting to wake up. Somewhere between grasping at straws with reality and the tether of dreams dragging you remorsefully back down, you wondered which was more worthy in this rather gladiator battle.

But the strings of yesterday's turnover made your eyes struck open with fleeting speed. You were, within seconds plundering to your feet, then to your knees.

“I think- I think I'm going to pu-”

“Woah there, little one, not in there, in here.”

Adélaïde was in her _Blackbear_ tee and boy shorts pointing to the sorry excuse of a bathroom. She must have also just slumbered out of bed as her hair were on ends. There was no telling what time it was in the outside world.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

You simply nod making the puke want to catapult out of your mouth onto her feet.

“Honey, no.”

You give her the middle finger in revolt.

“Okay look, can you fucking see anyone else here who’ll hold your hair back, give you water and pills later, huh? Yeah, I didn't think so. So behave, hun, I'm in charge around here when you're in over your head with a hangover.”

You rolled your eyes but went plummeting to the toilet and yesterday was heaving itself away.

“Grateful now?”

You retch as a response.

“Right.” Adélaïde pats your back in a consoling manner. What a great fantastic morning it was.

Turns out it was two in the afternoon and you missed five phone calls and three text messages.

“Ugh.”

Slumping against your cereal, the phone slid across the table ending up in Adélaïde’s hands as she happily obliged and sank her teeth into.

“Ooh, la la.”

“Not now, Addie, I rather not puke some more than I have to, thanks.”

“He's really trying though, huh?”

“What?”

“You don't know?”

“Well no, I didn't exactly _read_ \- not that I could through this blur and a 6.3 magnitude of a headache.”

Adélaïde’s face grew into a gratifying purr.

“Oh then allow me.-

_‘Babe, I am so so sorry.’_

_‘Call me when you get this. Please give me another chance.’_

_‘Shit, Babe I spoke to Hal- I didn't know, fuck him, he's a fucking idiot you know if I knew… B call me pls.’_

-Oh, look at this one!”

“You're having too much fun with this.”

She swats away at you and winks.

_“‘Babe, I will kill that motherfucker and me too if I have to, meet me @ Paul’s in an hour, we’ll talk please.’_

Oh, he’s trying B real tryin’. Like Paul’s? That fancy coffee shop? Yowzers.”

“Addie, I don’t want to go.”

She takes your hand and all of a sudden a softness ringed her eyes.

“Please try, he was drunk which is a huge rarity as you know more than anyone. Let's get some answers just that and you don't need any more from him, okay?”

You sigh and crunch into your cereal as if there wasn't the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“Sure. Why the fuck not?”

  
The breeze bruised your cheeks with a cold burn, making them sour apple red. It was as grateful as any when you swept through the doors of Paul’s and the warmth of the surrounding heating lathered you densely.

There was music, a chiding boom that chattered your teeth, the hum of other clientele made it a soft breezy atmosphere, as you swept into a swollen wooden seat.

You were quite self-conscious, as a few other patrons looked upon at your entrance, you coughed and turned up your nose as you ordered your caramel hot chocolate and texted Clark.

Ten minutes late turned into thirty and you sent your fourth message without avail. No response.

Sighing deeply but somehow not surprised at all by the outcome, you slowly wrapped yourself up in your outerwear, about to leave, giving up for good. _Who needs him anyway?_ _Second chance, my ass._

“Hey, excuse me, _Babe_ , is it?”

So startled you stopped in your tracks from wrapping your scarf around your neck like a snake, the dead creature fell limply to your side.

“Only my friends call me that.” You blinked stupidly at your quick response.

You looked up and boy, half of you wished you didn’t… the other half, sadly liked what they saw.

“Oh.”

A man in what appears to be the exact Armani suit you put a ring around in a catalogue the other day as the one day to be your future husband’s wedding suit happened to be right in front of you. His hair sooty black suiting his dark but shining majestic eyes. He looked absolutely positively rich, and by god, everything about him screamed appeal. You hated yourself for loving it.

“Sorry, it’s just because I recognised you, online and uh, we spoke the other night.”

You were so drunk especially coming back from the treacherous remains of the meet up with Clark at the party, that you drank two whole bottles of red wine with Adélaïde on top of whatever you already had at that hellhole.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, to be honest, I was quite tipsy so I apologise for not remembering straight away.”

His stare became one of inquiry but shortly after he just chuckles and it was surprisingly charming.

“Well, that wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”

He rubbed his chin in amusement. You smiled solemnly and sigh as you point to the chair in front of you, as once again you unravel yourself from your coat.

“Wanna join me?”

“You looked like you had enough of here.”

“Nah, just got stood up by a friend.”

Besides, talking to a stranger, or half stranger as it were, might just brighten things up a little.

“So we spoke, huh?”

“Just a little… ah, sorry, my mistake, I’m Bruce.”

Your eyes lit up and you snap your fingers. It's all coming together now.

_Oh no, what have you gotten yourself into?_

“Bruce? As in Bruce Wayne?”

He looks up sympathetically from the hot coffee that just arrived.

“Anything wrong?”

“Oh no!” You shot your hands up and laughed half nervously. “Just, you’re this omnipotent, omniscient being of Gotham, you know?”

“I’m not a god, Babe.”

A beat.

“Sorry-“

“No, you know what? You’re Bruce Wayne you can call me whatever the hell you want and at any time.” And you meant it.

Where the hell did all this confidence come from? You had an inkling of a thought this would bite you in the back later but for now, what could hurt, right?

_“I’m sorry, I’m so… late?”_

Looking up, you recognised the figure looming over the table, his shadow drowning out the light dangling from the ceiling above you all.

Clark smiled sheepishly, giving Bruce some iffy and awkward glances.

“Clark.” You said simply, not returning any eye contact.

“I really am sorry.”

You looked up then, hearing the scornful touch of his broken tone in his voice catching up with him. Your face heated red as you noticed Bruce looking up at your friend also, interestingly.

“Yeah, same- but Clark now’s not the time.”

Maybe it was the fact that you were stubborn, though you really did mean you were sorry, just mumbling it in a sorry ass way was your way of projecting apology, but so was running away from the problem.

Clark looked at the two of you, hurt washing his eyes, and for a second your heart broke, but it was all too soon when you remembered what he put you through the night before.

You weren’t going to let him off the hook all that easily. It wasn't that easy.

“I’m sorry Clark, I’m in the middle of something.” Your voice was breezy. He got the picture though and with one more brutalising stare he marched back off where he came from.

Bruce, after explaining what was going on in the simplest of terms, agreed to a piddling walk and it was funny at how easy it all felt to you, the sun so bright it felt like it was illuminating your heart full of gold treasure, and you were just pouring out with it, full of giddy happiness.

And just before you two went separate ways he gave you his number, a reminder number with a follow up with what was spoken from your forgotten drunken conversation. Apparently. You didn’t want to look at it, wherever you messaged him on, you couldn’t find the original conversations anyway. You wanted to start afresh, worried what your drunken self might have said.

  
“Woah, girl you got some!”

“Not exactly and besides that would be weird considering a number of things.”

“Because he is literally God? Because he is Bruce fucking Wayne?”

Adélaïde was playing _Nintendogs_ on her old DS, her legs were up at the top of the couch and her hair was dangling like a beautiful blonde waterfall at the bottom.

“Do you remember me talking to him? I don’t. Should I have been more cautious?”

“I dunno, but fuck it, when are you ever going to get someone like him be interested in you.”

“Thanks, Addie.” You rolled your eyes and took out a carton of juice from the dainty fridge before jumping into the seat next to her to watch some TV.

Your phone vibrated and you got the thrill of the moment thinking it was Bruce.

_“I’m so sorry babe I-”_

You stopped reading, it was Clark and you had enough of him for one day, a lifetime maybe. You winced at the thought considering how close you have been to him now so distant.

“Was that…” Adélaïde trailed, her eyes darted towards you and phone, you just nodded feeling too pitiful to actually respond.

Quickly explaining what happened at Paul’s, the silence bare down on the two of you.

She snapped the console up and sat regularly, putting your head on her shoulder as you usually did when sullen. She rubbed your arm as you both sat in silence with the TV running in the background numbing your brains.

  
It wasn’t until the next morning when you got a real text from Bruce. With your heart spinning enough to throw you off completely, you skipped your last class to see him.

It was no secret that Adélaïde was the one that was perfectly fine with experience swinging to one guy to the next but you yourself had more issues with it, particularly with Clark being the main first choice of interest for the majority of your life, up until now. You didn’t know how to like any other. Or have much experience.

So what? Maybe he is a rebound, nothing wrong with that, no attachments, no worries, right? Easy peasy.  _You’re jumping ahead of yourself._

Or so you say to yourself repeatedly until you reached your meet up with him.

“What’s the plan for today?”

Bruce picked you up in a slick black Lambo, not a scratch or speck on it.

You marvelled at it from each of its four wheels. You knew he was rich but every little part of his own lifestyle especially in comparison to yours, shined with emphasis.

He rapped the steering wheel with his knuckles as you both headed through heavy traffic. “Well, I was thinking of taking things slow,” you couldn’t judge through his monotone voice whether he was joking or not, “but we should probably spend some more time together, maybe you should come to this party I was forced to go to.”

“Forced?” You shake off an awkward laughter, “why on earth does Bruce Wayne need to be forced into anything?”

He feigned a laugh but smiled nevertheless. “I need to keep up a good name or apparently people make up some… conspicuous rumours.” He quickly eyed you as if he was hinting something. You weren’t too sure if he meant your new friendship. Was he allowed to suddenly become friends with a college student? You guessed that could come off the wrong way, the age gap and all…

There was a moment of silence until you realised something.

“But I didn’t dress for the occasion…” slight panic thrilled you but you saw his profile smile despite it all.

“That’s all sorted.”

With perfect timing, only moments later, he parked up the car just outside a picturesque building.

“A hotel?” Mind drawing blanks, afraid of what this may lead to despite all his talk about taking it slow. Whatever that meant or he intended with you, you kind of marvelled at that mystery.

As if reading your mind, Bruce muttered, “don’t worry, it’s just to pick up a few things. Plus I have business here before the party.”

You both walked in slowly through the glass riveting doors, many businessmen and women swarmed the hotel lobby while others were obviously wealthy clientele there for luxurious leisure.

You couldn’t help but allow your mouth to drop, it sounded silly but you’re a college student there wasn’t much to it, you ate ramen most days and relied on pizza deliveries on others if you could stretch your wallet enough after a night out on the bender.

Bruce was already at the front desk getting the keycard to the room while you were tapping the large fish tank that was built into the wall near the front entrance. A tiny shark was swimming circles within, rather irritated by the prominent dazzling lights that were spotlighting his home.

“Your keycard.” Bruce’s voice made you jump around to see his rather amused smile.

“Thanks.” you were still fearing a lot but you were also unsure how to tackle such a situation.

“Well.”

He walks off hoping you’d follow him.

The elevator up was dead quiet. There were only the two of you. What happened to elevator music anyway? Was there a need to rid of the only distinct movement that gave avoidant to needless awkward chatter?

You arrived on the fifth floor and he keyed your card in for you before you could process everything that was appearing in front of you.

Bruce opened the door and kept it in place by leaning against it between the threshold.

“Your outfit for tonight is on the bed and you can stay here after the event as it’s going to be late. I’ll pick you up in an hour once I finished the meeting.”

You nod unsure why you accepted it all at face value but oh wasn’t it for a good price. Your hotel room was large and glorious to say the very least. There was a king-sized bed, a dining table that you needn’t to really use but set the mood for the room and the bathtub stood exposed beside the bedroom and next to that was a balcony that you ran immediately towards.

The skyline over the city of Gotham was already reaching its peak darkness for the day. You always admired the city, any city you supposed, though, you haven’t been much of a traveller. The light pollution poured and the moon dimmed while the chatter of people and the cars zooming and beeping filled the air whole, it was hard to ever feel truly alone with such chaos.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the atmosphere, your eyes closed softy and you could feel the warmth of the room encapture you from behind, while your face roused with a small light wind.

You and Clark used to go out in the open a lot during the dark, especially out back near his barn and watch the day fold into the night. The stars were the best part, no matter how many hours you would lay, you’d marvel at the stars with him and he wouldn’t bore. You wondered what he was up to now, half wishing you would just step off your own high horse and check your messages from him. But, there was that one thing... you were still mad at him and it wasn’t easy to erase.

Deciding you should probably get ready by now, you finally opened up the boxes that had your dress, jewellery and shoes.

And out poured lavishly a Christian Dior dress, luxurious raven black ruffles bordered your collar to your neckline exposing a great depth of your cleavage, the bottom half of the dress hung deeply like a long tutu, underneath was a short tight mini skirt revealing a lot of your legs. You bit inside of your cheek, a small giggle immersed, it was hard not to feel an excitement vibrate you.

The shoes were something else, Valentino, matching perfectly with that old classic gothic air that came with the pompous dress, there was a pair of sock heels, semi-transparent with laced patterns and open-toed.

You couldn’t take it, it was mind-blowing how much he spent. Spent on you.

Opening the last box, you took a moment to take a breather, it was slightly confusing why he was so interested in you but also, you were liking him back, surely, who wouldn’t?

A long gold pendant necklace lay on soft wine red velvet, thin, fragile but perfect for that trailing length of a neckline on the dress.

You put your hair up in a low bun with two small curls escaping the front. The makeup simply needed more emphasis but when you heard the jump of the door being knocked, you were ready.

When you opened, Bruce was still in the mind of business, rapidly typing away on his phone looking pretty focused all until you mentioned his name in a quiet voice.

“Bruce.”

His eyes dart up, then his whole head cleared, enough to stow away his phone completely.

“Wow, look at you.” He rubbed his jaw in awe. “I knew the dress would look nice on you but wow.”

You couldn’t help but fluster. “It’s not what I’m used to but hey." after a thoughtful second you added, “I’m really appreciative, Bruce, thank you. It hasn’t been a great week.”

He offers you his hand, “Well, let’s make it one then.”

The ride to the party was just as sleek as the first time you rode in the Lamborghini, hearing the engine purr underneath your feet, making them tremble in an all-new excitement.

He stopped the car around the side of a very large house, or more like, a spectacular mansion, glitz with floodlights showcasing its exterior in the pitch of the night.

The entrance was thronged with gaudy guests eagerly waiting in line to get into the fancy party.

“Here.” Bruce was handing you another box.

“More gifts? I couldn’t.” You tried to push it away but he insisted, so of course, you opened it immediately.

The satin folds within the old box unfolded itself, welcomed you in its arms to where its content lay.

“What is it?”

“A face mask, it’s a masquerade inside.” Bruce’s voice wasn’t exactly bitter, it was just nonchalant, everything of this task was circumstantial. But somehow you didn't mind.

The black mask was simple and was chosen simply to not take away the scrutiny of your dress. It had the curve of cats eyes carved holes and the tips of the mask pointed like the animal's ears.

Taking his hand with a swift squeeze you thanked him before you both walked towards the most popular party in the city.

The doors opened and the bright lights startled your stare for quite some time before all you saw was a swarm of pretty dresses and pimped-up tuxedos. You looked towards Bruce and he winks at you before he placed his arm out for you to hold onto.

You took but a few steps forwards before you were halted by a middle-aged couple, you gulped at the many diamond rings that engulfed the woman's meaty fingers, the jewels that possessed beneath the rolls of her neck. The man gave a judgemental look up and down at you, you couldn’t hold his stare, you looked at the ground blushing and feeling awkward like a limp old rag doll in Bruce’s arm. Small. Insignificant. No value to your name unlike every other guest here.

“Why, Bruce, it’s so nice to see you again.” She heartily chuckled and Bruce mirrored back her vibes with such an elastic smile, stretched to please. Snapped back to a small line once their heads are turned away.

He took her in a small embrace kissing her cheek you felt your heart drop a little, the way you could imagine him doing the same to you, one day, “Nice to see you again, Amanda.”

Then she looked at you, you tried out a confident smile hoping you looked braver than you felt.

“You must be Selina-”

Bruce butted in before you could respond, “Oh no, Selina and I… we went our separate ways a while back.”

She nods and you felt even more embarrassed about the mix-up but you stayed polite anyway dismissing it as if you were mistaken for this Selina character all the time.

_Selina?_

“Well, I’m sorry dear, you see Selina used to like cats, so I assumed-” She pointed towards your mask, you instinctively touched it.

You winced, a little hurt, knowing Bruce must have given you the mask for it reminded him of her. Maybe she even wore it once, maybe it is hers.

You looked up at Bruce, arching your eyebrows but he wouldn’t look back at you, it only irritated you more.

After moving away from one small crowd to another, the music chimed and a makeshift dancefloor appeared, where the two of you were somehow made at the centre of it.

“But I don’t know how to-”

“Dance?” He finished your sentence and you rolled your eyes, “Don’t worry, I got you.”

And he sure did, he took you in under his wing, the melodies elapsed and he twirled you about so elegantly it was a surprise it wasn’t in any of your control.

Soon after, others joined in with their masked companions. There was a sort of din to the air where you could grasp and form a casual conversation with Bruce.

“So, who is this Selina everyone keeps mistaking me for?”

You felt his fingers that were laced around your hip tap slightly, a nervous tick maybe.

“Someone from my past.”

“Figures.” You punctuated with pursuing eyes following his darting stare. “She means a lot to you by the looks of things.” You cocked your head to the side as he twirled you about and you fell back into your usual trance around the floor.

“ _Meant._ ” He corrected.

“What?”

He sighed deeply and faltered in his pace. You two stood solid as statues as everyone else pivoted on their heels, unaware, dissociated but within their own small circle.

“She….” His mouth was agape and his stare looked up at the ceiling. It was obvious it was pulling all his heartstrings to talk about it. “We were engaged.”

_Oh._

“What happened?” You asked in a small voice, dropping your hands from his.

He scratched the back of his neck, “She left me after something big happened, it’s a thing she did a lot actually, disappear without a trace, quiet as a… cat.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

He shook his head in response, “Let’s just go.”

You nod, feeling the mood of the party shake off immediately once the truth made the air feel so tight and wounding.

Maybe it always felt like that, you don’t know but you were itching to get out of that dress all of sudden, the rush of wanting to run away from it all enticing your mind.

“Master Bruce.”

An elderly man dressed formally but in a work style not in a party one, stood in front of us blocking the door.

“ _Master?”_ You muttered to yourself feeling ludicrous thinking it’s a joke, you looked up at Bruce’s face. It wasn’t.

“Alfred.” He said simply.

“This is _your_ party, aren’t you staying?”

Bruce clicked his neck, looking a little rugged for wear.

“No.” Then on a second thought, he decided to add, “it’s been a rough day, Al, I need a break.”

_Alfred_ looks sternly back at him but quickly throws a look at you, he sighs deeply.

“You’ve had a lot of those days these days.”

“Can’t help with the terrible luck I bring,” Bruce said so indifferently.

“I suppose not,” Alfred responded mirroring his tone before taking a moment to edge out of your way. Before he did so, he took Bruce’s shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. You considered how close they looked at that moment, and a twinge of guilt tug in your gut.

When you two started driving off again, there was a heavy air of awkward silence.

“Will he be alright?” You suddenly piped up, feeling bad about the two of them and how they left Alfred the way they did.

“What, Al? Yeah, he’s a tough soldier.” Bruce smiled to himself making your heart glower and warm.

“You two close?”

He darts a look at you quickly before looking back at the road ahead of him again. “Yeah… Let me put it this way, he was the only one there for me when Selina left.”

After a pregnant pause and the inability to continue, despite your curiosity about Selina burning your mind, he pipes up again as he parked out in front of the hotel, same spot as earlier that night.

“I won’t be joining you this time, but please enjoy your room as much as you like to yourself tonight.” He winks as you stood on the curb as he immediately took off. You blushed all the way to your room.

  
It wasn’t until the morning after, did you feel the flush of bliss wash over you, a warm milky bath of euphoria. That is exactly how to wake up on the right side of the bed.

There were moments where the thought of Bruce’s past intermixing with your own created stab wounds in your chest but then the stinging reminder of his teasing just before he drove off made your stomach do a little somersault and all bad was forgotten. That is until you left the hotel and arrived back home in your apartment.

You still smelt the champagne clung closely to your clothes from yesterday, but you giggled as it was riddled with some exuberant memories with Bruce, his cologne, not too strong but musky and sour to your nostrils, his low bellowing laughter came along with it, chiming in your ears.

Hard to forget, really.

You stopped short all of a sudden as you opened your front door. If it wasn’t for the chattering you heard coming from the kitchen where on queue Adélaïde chuckles echoing through to the hallway you standing still in, there was also a pair of shoes on the floor that caught your eye.

“She’s brought a boy over.” You smiled yourself lightly.

You stumbled into the kitchen smirking, ready to sneer at her jokingly, imagining she’s already half in his lap, but that smile almost instantly dropped when you noticed the boy that was over was in fact, Clark.

“Babe!” He shuffled around as he heard you coming in and you dropped your bag on the floor through surprise and the rush of anger that immediately coursed through you.

“Hun, I thought you were out for the night.” Adélaïde looked you up and down and your mouth fell slightly agape. It was like she was putting you on the guilty spotlight when in fact she was the one fraternising with the enemy.

“It’s morning, Addie. What’s going on here?” You asked dryly as you poured water from the tap and gulped the whole glass clean in two takes.

You noticed Adélaïde giving Clark a secret look and your anger flared more so.

“Nothing, Clark was just explaining to me what he wanted to tell you and really Babe, everything is all just a misunderstanding.”

You slammed the glass onto the counter making Adélaïde jump as you focused on Clark next. “Get out.” it wasn’t an option, it was an order.

“Babe.” He repeated once more that day.

“No. Just get out.” He slowly did, you could see the mix of hurt and fear intermixing his facial expressions.

He grabbed his coat and made his way to the front door, Adélaïde got in the way between the two of you in the hallway.

“Listen to me, Babe.”

You shook your head and moved around her opening the front door for Clark so he could get out faster, he was still shoving his boots onto his feet, achingly slow.

Before you were able to shut the door on his saddened face he stopped the door with his foot. The superpowers you always mocked he had. So much strength.

“Wait. Babe, listen to me, I wanted to confess to you that night but everything was a mess I know now I did wrong and I did really wrong now too, please forgive me.”

“What?” You asked impatiently.

“Bruce- that guy, don’t hang with him, I was drunk and angry so I signed you up to some stupid sugar daddy app and well he thinks your his baby girl or whatever, please don’t see him- it’s dangerous, he’s dangerous. I’m sorr-”

That was when you finally and successfully slammed the door on his face.

“I could do whatever I want.” You said to the door, uselessly. Clark ’s words buzzing around your head ecstatically.

You pivoted on your heel planning to get your things and take a sharp turn straight to your room. You needed your alone time. Stat.

“Babe, I’m so so sorry….”

You pushed through Adélaïde ignoring her, not quite ready to forgive her just yet.

On your bed, you stared at the creases tethered together into a weirdly shaped pattern on your ceiling.

_Sugar daddy?_ You considered.

_Well, I could do with that right about now._

You smiled after admitting to yourself you were only half joking with your heart swimming once more thinking how Bruce does, in fact, want the more you’ve been yearning for.


	3. Episode Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I hear you say, "Finally"?

**PART III.**  
Clark has been feeling off since his last visit when he spoke to Adélaïde about what really happened. He knew this because of three reasons:

  1. It was midday, he skipped all his lessons today, which was very unexpected for him. 
  2. His hair was a disaster, noted, it hadn’t been washed in days and he was wearing the same thing he wore three days ago.
  3. He was drunk. Foolishly, heedlessly drunk. He never does that, he’s not the type to drink outside of according social gatherings, he’s a social drinker, but that being said, here he was now surrounded by liquor and beer bottles on his rugged carpet his Ma bought him the day he left for College.



He was rubbing his palm lightly back and forth its coarse texture staring at the naked bulb that dangled directly above him.

The rug was gross really. Mustard diamonds on a vibrant red background but it reminded him of home, his home back in Kansas. Jesus, what ways he had come.

He sat up abruptly and the stars were back in his stare, dotting the abyss that growth his vision before he could see again. He felt sick.

And pissed off too. But mostly defeated.

Everything was washed up, his friendship with the love of his life now down the sink probably forever, who knows?   
He’s failing all his classes too, skipping so many would do that to you, and on top of that, he can’t even fucking complain about it around the clock because there was no one to complain to.

Hal was in his class like the good boy he was, when the hell did he even get better as a person? Better than Clark, even.

Clark supposed he should wash, at some point… maybe later. He sniffed his armpit and it clarified a time.

Now is good.

The suds and boiling water that squirted down upon him didn’t do much like people pretended it to. He still felt young, dumb and fucked but now he’s young, dumb, fucked and stark naked.

There was one constellation he gathered as he got out of the shower, besides the fact that he finally changed into something clean and breathable, it was the new resolution that he’d give up on the so be it, _The Girl of His Dreams._

He also hoped the shower sobered him up a little bit but he highly doubted it as he fell to the floor and scooted towards his laptop lifting it open and on.

There on the screen, sat the same browser he left up for three days.

It was the same sugar daddy site he signed Babe to _Million Dollar Baby._ A play on words, because apparently according to their strap-line “there are millions of daddies out there for you!” Clark highly doubted that.

Making it the most doubtful of days.

He was biting down to the core of his thumb cuticle, in deep reflection.

_If I do this there’s no backing out. No turning back, Clarky, you’re in or you’re out._

He eyed the last sixth of a beer in a bottle that was near him and washed it down.

_The hell with it._

He submitted it with smite.

**farmboi**  
Hey. I saw your pic and you’re pretty hot  
Add me. x

“And now we wait.”

  
Clark supposed he didn’t put that much thought into it. Not any real solid thought anyway.

It wasn’t long after he sent his short but sweet message that he got a message back. It read:

**billionaireboyzclub**  
Could say the same with you. Want to meet?

**farmboi**  
At Gotham uni campus

**farmboi**  
there’s a coffee stand.

**billionaireboyzclub**  
Perfect, any time you’re free?

**farmboi**  
@ 4pm

**billionaireboyzclub**   
See you then.

Clark was waiting on a bench close to the coffee stall, there was a long line thinning around it, a lot of students either glanced at him bored waiting or catching up on their phones. It was the usual busy minutes before the next class.

Clark had his hands in his lap, he felt so insecure all of a sudden, all his confidence sucked out of him.

Maybe it was the question that’s been awkwardly buzzing about his mind like a persistent fly.

_Did you do this just to piss Babe off?_

“No…” he hummed to himself without realising a little too loudly, a girl looked up from her phone and he looked away. His hands behind him, leaning back a little as he watched the sky.

_Okay. Maybe a little bit but really, I want my own life back. I want joy and I want sex, fuck me, I want sex._

Sure, he’s had hookups, since uni started, he was a free man but then when this year started? That was when he really considered Babe more seriously.

It was a flicker of a thought apparently because he’s back to his old ways.  
Whatever.

_How come I never thought of this before? This is a good thing. I should do this more often. Sex with no effect, pure solid joyful sex with no strings attached but get good shit as a prize. Lo and behold, a great life._

“You Clark?”

Clark squinted down where the sun poured at the tall figure he surely recognised stood in front of him.

Bruce had his hands in his pockets, he was pretty lax, nothing about his demeanour showed that he recognised Clark from the time he interrupted his first meeting with Babe.

He wore a deep plum velvet Dolce & Gabbana suit jacket, it was embroidered with large bees, which Clark found pretty adorable, a white dress shirt where a few buttons were unscrewed at the top, revealing enough to make Clark smile to himself a little, and skinny fitted black pants hugging his thick thighs wholesomely.

“Nice outfit.” Clark couldn’t help himself as he got up and shuffled on his feet.

Bruce smiled looking him up and down, “a little worse for wear but I like it.”

_He meant me, didn’t he? He meant my outfit._

Baring in mind, Clark threw on whatever was clean and was just enough to make him look good to fuck; Jeans that had no stains on them and a tightly fitted v-neck shirt that defined his muscles when he exhaled.

Clark shrugged it off. “Could use a coffee, want one?”

Bruce just stared at the coffee stall as Clark walked back towards it while still looking at him.

“What not The Ritz enough for you?” He smirked and that made Bruce laugh it off, leading him forwards.

  
They sat at a picnic bench in the shade where it was the furthest away from the rest of civilisation (a few feet from a passing student, that is) just out of earshot.

The two were just covering the basics, who they were, has Bruce seen him before? _No, no I don’t believe so_ , to the rules of being a newbie to this whole sugar daddy charade.

“Do I pass?” Clark took a sip of his macchiato and looked at Bruce over the rim devilishly.

Bruce gave him a flirtatious smirk back, “Depends,”

“Oh? On what?”

Bruce had a fist to his mouth, thinking.

“If you’re ready now.”

_Oh, I so am._ Clark thought, trying to steady his leg that was jumping up and down with jitters and anticipation under the picnic table.

_Cool it, kid._

“Well…” He started to rap his knuckle gently on the tabletop, dragging it out.

Then Clark saw her, Babe… fleetingly in the corner of his eye, probably on her way to class, the one he should be getting along to also but hell, he’s been missing so much, so what?

He was planning to do this anyway but eh, what great timing.

Clark fanned his hand on the side of Bruce’s face before swooping in for a hard pressing kiss. At first, Bruce was a little surprised, maybe it was against his rules but then allowed him in confidently.

_Oh! We’re going for tongue already are we? Okay, sure, that’s cool, I can go with that._

“Well, call me later, and we’ll pick things up from where we left off.” Clark winked and walked off leaving Bruce with his mouth still agape, drool promisingly clung to his lips.

  
It was an hour later or so when Clark’s phone flashed.

“Well, that was fast.” Clark blinked at the vibration of his phone, opening up his message on Million Dollar Baby.

**billionaireboyzclub**   
Ready to pick up where we left off, tonight?

“What?” Hal was standing on the seat of a swing in a park they were passing but Clark had paused abruptly to check his message, pretty amazed how eager Bruce was, hell maybe it’s always like that with this site.

“N-nothing.” Clark shoved back his phone in his back pocket after responding to Bruce that he would be delighted to.

He walked towards Hal looking up at him as he swung back and forth while sucking on a lollipop.

_Seriously should get this kid a babysitter._

“I’m going out tonight to see a friend so you chill about not getting takeout together?”

Hal hopped off and slurped his lolly, the sound vibrating through the silent exterior of the location they were in.

“You’re gross did you know that?” Hal just winked back.

They started walking again only a few blocks away from their apartment.

“Is this to do with _Baaabe?”_

“I told you not to call her that. It’s someone else.”

Hal leaned against their apartment now that they finally reached their complex, Clark was sieving through his bag trying to find his key card.

“Moved on already, have we?”

“No, it’s not like that- shit!” Clark drooped half of his bag’s contents on the floor and immediately scrambled to get it all back in.

He was so nervous about tonight and not talking to Hal about it made his head screwed on backwards.

There was an electronic _ping!_ that went off above his head, and he realised as he got up Hal was waiting with the door open with a smug look on his face.

“Chill it, dude.”

Clark rolled his eyes and punched his friend’s arm.

“Next time I’m locking you out.”

  
The lapse of the golden hour had come and went.

“Thought you might like these.” Bruce marvelled, he was standing next to his glass dining table, arms folded, the present’s wrapping was ravishing in itself.

Clark arrived at Bruce’s separate apartment in the city only moments ago. Apparently, this is where he takes all his uh, “clients”. He had a separate mansion for his private life and parties.

“What is it?” Clark was pretty far away from anything in the household including Bruce himself. Call it first-comer jitters. Heh.

“Open it and see.”

That he did, gently enough.

In the box were satin briefs and on top…

“Is that a diamond-encrusted _cock ring?”_   Clark choked on his words almost afraid to touch it.

“What, don’t like it?” Clark almost jumped feeling Bruce’s breath so close to his ear, he was standing behind him. His hand stroked through Clark’s shirt so gently that it sent electric shivers down his skin.

“Not what I meant. Why is it diamond encrusted?”

Clark thought a second later how dumb that all sounded.

Bruce walked off towards the door’s empty threshold and leaned his weight against his hand on its frame. It was a partition between the dining and kitchen complex straight into the bedroom. Was he implying something already?

“Why not?” Bruce brushed his question off with another.

Clark just looked up towards the windows that fell from ceiling to floor across all of the walls. It was a glorious looking apartment all right.

He picked them both up and took a deep breath, his heart was beating fast. Bruce Wayne. Playboy billionaire. Nice house, a lot of money going into good places, let’s see that package of his, is it as good as its reviews?

Walking fixedly to Bruce, he was an inch away from him, they were about the same height and Clark could imagine a hundred different possibilities now that he knows he could probably pick Bruce up.

“I do but there’s something I like even more.” His voice surprisingly even and soft now.

Clark pecked Bruce’s lips, testing the waters then looked back at Bruce, biting down on his own lower lip wondering, wondering how Bruce usually does these things.

Is he doing any of this right? Is this too fast? Too slow?

“Let me do that,” Bruce spoke just as softly and quietly like a small breath of fresh air had past Clark’s ear.

“What?” Clark felt the heat creep up at the back of his neck to his ears.

“This…” Bruce grabbed the scruff of Clark’s hair while the other hand skimmed his back, he sucked onto Clark’s lower lip before littering hungry kisses down his neck and jawline. A moan hiccuped in Clark’s throat, making Bruce slightly chuckle through the process.

“Shut up,” Clark mumbled before hitching another moan, Bruce lifted Clark’s shirt up and was now on his knees kissing his lower abdomen.

Clark has his eyes closed, biting his lip once again trying to hold in his strenuous boner.

“I believe this is your job,” Bruce spoke, Clark scoffed a laugh, and played along. He supposed right.

Bruce got up and Clark pushed him gently backwards until he fell back on the edge of his bed in his large bedroom, Clark was leaning above him.

“Wow, the view is great here.” He looking at Gotham’s cluttered skyline.

Bruce tilted Clark’s face back to him with his finger and thumb cupping his chin.

“Wrong view you’re focusing on there, baby.”

Clark arched an eyebrow up and slowly peeled open Bruce’s pants, revealing nothing underneath. He wasn’t expecting him to go commando under there but he wasn’t complaining either.

5-star review average, damn right, indeed.

Clark gulped. “You’re right… _daddy_.” He tried out the word, falling flat on his tongue

“What?” Bruce looked down at Clark’s head that was closer to his hips than his face.

“N-nothing. I’m going to try these on.” Clark pants, lifting his freshly opened presents.

Clark ran off to the en suite and looked at the satin briefs. They were tight around his stocky thighs and bulged exactly where he was sure Bruce wanted.

Then he looked at the cock ring. Staring at it like a flamboyant tragedy.

Well, this should be fun. He held it in his hand as he peered back out wearing a bathrobe over his newly acclaimed underwear.

Bruce looked impatient, well mostly he looked flustered. Horny. Hungry for more. Clark didn’t blame him when he was in the same boat.

But mostly Clark felt his cock twitch at the sight of him.

His buttons were undone flaunting his chest and chiselled abs, it was still loosely tucked into his pants.

And he was really rocking the sex hair and they haven’t even got that far yet.

“Look at you all dressed up.” Bruce pulled Clark closer to him using the bathrobe, as he propped himself up with an elbow.

“Are you happy with me?” Clark was breathless, he was feeling all sorts of things.

Bruce was fiddling with the band of his underwear, before pulling down the bathrobes to solely show his gift.

“Very much…. but you’ve been bad today Clark. Safe word’s Papi.”

Clark was leaning his arms over his shoulders, a knee so close to Bruce’s exposed bulge he twitched forwards as soon as he spoke.

Bruce tugged Clark’s hand and opened it in his, where the cock ring stood, glistening in all its glory.

“Punishment, you have to wear this tonight. All night.”

Clark tilted his head slightly to the side, wondering how on earth that was any kind of punishment but he obliged.

Now standing before Bruce who sat upright at the edge of the bed, ready for the show. Clark dropped his satin underwear slightly just to place the cock ring where it should and turned it on. Instantly he gasped at the electric sensation that thrilled him. He was so sensitive he carefully pulled back the satin and tried to stare at Bruce with a straight face which was flustering profusely as he patiently waited for his next move.

“Good. Get on your knees and suck daddy good.”

Clark nodded and shuffled close enough to have Bruce’s dick in his face.

Clark had only done this a handful of times before, he was glad to do it again.

He sucked at the length, licking his tip greedily, Clark fought a smirk as he heard Bruce sigh above him.

“That’s right… “

Bruce gripped hard at the roots of Clark’s hair, only inches from becoming the rough side he warned Clark he would encounter.

“Shit, yes!” Bruce exhaled.

It sent tendrils down Clark’s spine. Pre-cum leaked sloppily down his chin as Bruce pulled him up, respiring heavily.

“Daddy likes you very much.” Bruce’s husky, panting voice gruff making Clark’s already leaking cock feel like it was on fire, hot and yearning for attention.

A gluttonous fog weighed Clark down, his loins longing, craving for a long riding touch.

He had one of Bruce’s knees between his thighs and he tried to grind against it but Bruce stopped him abruptly by gripping his hair just slightly, once more.

“No.”

Before Clark could meddle with a sweet talk apology, Bruce punched a sloppy kiss to his mouth making him groan against his raging boner wanting so bad for him to touch him.

Bruce smacked a hard hand against Clark’s left ass cheek making him yelp a little before Bruce squeezed it, feeling the satin seeping between his fingers, an index finger slightly touching the outline of Clark’s crack.

“Please…” he whimpered.

But Bruce simply smiled devilishly.

“Maybe next time you’ll have second thoughts of being naughty, babyboy.”

“Yes, yes I will… please.”

Bruce bit down hard on Clark’s neck making his gasp, some cum leaking awkwardly down his thigh wetting his new satin briefs.

“You’ll learn that I come first.”

_Literally or?_

Bruce guided Clark’s hand to his cock, thick and ready to let go.

“Jerk me off,” Bruce commanded and Clark did so, feeling the motion guide him through his own moans. Bruce shot a healthy amount of cum towards Clark’s chest and onto the bed.

Bruce exhaled and soon enough got up collecting his clothes that littered the floor. Clark was still on all fours on the bed.

_“Daddy?”_

He was burning with the need to let go of his load that was boiling down there.

Bruce shook his head, “Punishment, I told you, didn’t I?”

Clark fell on his back on the bed, closing his eyes.

He felt Bruce peck his cheek and his hot breath to his ear.

“Until next time…”

Once he opened his eyes again he was already gone.

Clark ran off to the en-suite and slammed on the hot water in the shower, as the water sprayed down his back. He took hold of his length and imagined Bruce back when he was waiting for him to get dressed, his hair a mess running down his face in wavy tassels out of its usual strict structure, his clothes loosely lathering his hot skin and ready for him.

“Bruce… fuck! Bruce!” Cum ran freely, intermingling with the water down the drain.

Clark leaned against the shower pane, exhaling with great success.

 

**PART III-II.  
** “Let’s go in here.” You dragged Bruce’s arm into a Versace clothing store.

Bruce was pretty open to how he likes to treat you, littering kisses down your neck as you flicked through one of the racks of some vintage pieces.

“You have expensive taste.” His voice crooned.

“Well, when one comes with just as an expensive shopping… _partner_   what could I do?” You purred back.

You knew Bruce didn’t and wouldn’t decline a single purchase because he’s a sugar daddy for one thing but also you teased him enough to have him wrapped around your finger by now, he must be ready to beg for sex now.

“What about this?”

You wanted extravagant, this was going to be a nice night, dinner at some too rich for you place, sex in his apartment down the street and… answers, you needed answers about Selina. Honestly, it’s been bugging you ever since the party.

The selection was of a black dress made of viscose, decorated with kilt pin embellishments running down each side. There was also a slit that would reveal the whole runway of your magnificent thigh.

“How about you try it on?” Bruce asked while running even smaller but hungry kisses down your neck.

Something happened since the last time the two of you had met at the party. The time when he was all recluse and shut himself out from you has now all changed, his need for more has been poignant and pronounced with the drench of hormonal desperation, he has taken a bite out of something he can’t get enough of.

You latched onto his shoulder and you two swung side to side on the spot, you bit down an inane smile.

The store was pretty quiet, it was of course during the day so it made sense, though the whole of Gotham never shied away from customers of all sorts. Nevertheless, Bruce glanced all about the two of you before latching on your hand and manoeuvring you between the clothing racks and towards the lit-up sign that bathed the shiny floor with its words “Changing Rooms”.

You both stood in front of the grey curtains, a small way of privacy, really not enough. Spinning Bruce around so it was just behind you, you took both sides of his arms and winked, pressing your palm against his hard chest.

“Wait and be patient.”

There was a slow groan that settled deep within him, you quickly looked over his shoulder but all the workers were preoccupied with their own chatter.

“Bruce….” You whispered as you slowly churned the curtains tightly shut.  
Quickly you spun about and bore into your overly lit reflection. Seeing your face scrunch a little at the messy scene before you.

Taking your clothes off including your lacy black bra to better appease the dress, you propped it on and then keeping the curtains around to your neck you looked about at Bruce who was still waiting.

“The coast is clear, Babe.” He mentioned almost grudgingly. No patience, honestly.

You dragged him in.

“Well?” Smirking a little as you did a soft radiating twirl.

He spun you towards your own reflection, grabbing your waist while whispering in the nook of your shoulder and neck.

“I think it speaks for itself.” He sealed with a light kiss.

Of course, Bruce was right. The dress clung impressively onto your figure, then on the side was the shimmer of gems that kindled your bare skin.

Bruce was passionately pressing his lips down on your shoulder, to your collarbone, then to your neck enticing you with elastic shock waves, making your breathing become erratic.

You spun around to look into his eyes, “Hi.” You smiled and locked your glossy lips onto his. There was a small ledge to the side, he picked you up and made you sit on it, pressing his body in between your open legs.

The making out was becoming intense, a whine escaped you as he hushed you while slivering down the straps of your dress where they nestled around your elbows. Kissing your cleavage promisingly.

“ _Bruce… please.”_   A moaned escaped harshly between your rapid breathing.

“What do you want me to do with you, babygirl?”

_Everything._

Bruce made the dress ride up to the top of your thighs and knelt down to a squat. He was achingly making a trail of kisses from your ankle up.

“Bruce….” You exhaled.

He didn’t do anything to rush the itching agony.

“Bruce.” You repeated a little louder. You wanted more, you wanted to be so much closer to him.

Bruce was leaving a few signature hickies down the soft tender parts of your inner thighs, you did everything to keep your restraint, to close those legs up shut.

“Bruce!” You almost screamed before he quickly covered your mouth, laughing under his breath.

“You’re an impatient one, Babe. I’ll have to keep that in mind for tonight.”

Before you could utter a thing he left the changing rooms while you were still there a rasping undressed mess.

  
_“Daddy.”_

Tonight was the first time, you let the word roll out of your tongue fluently, it was foreign sounding and your flirtatious tone was off but Bruce, in his Lambo edged to the passenger seat, winked back approvingly.

The restaurant was obnoxious, to say the least, the food minuscule for its sake of aesthetic and branding but the whole setup itself was a simple groundwork for the looming night ahead.

There wasn’t much to it, through Bruce’s rundown of a finger to the rim of his wine glass to the entanglement of playful feet that bumped magnetically beneath the tabletop.

You were used to this sort of arrangement by now, dates and meet-ups at places you never expected to set a foot in, in your college years and yet.

Everything was so much of a haste, working towards the finishing line of the night instead of the start.

“You’re beautiful, has anyone ever told you that?”

_Not in the way you do._

Bruce’s way is banging you full throttle on his marble top kitchen island. While the horizon of Gotham was bestowed before you in its flickering firefly lights through the dark canvas windows to your right.

Your dress was in a wondrous dark pool rippling at your hips, your top bare breast full and exposed, decorated by the accessory of Bruce’s magical fingers squeezing them perfectly.

You bit his ear in response, and he slapped your ass as a reprimand.

_Be good, Babygirl_ , he repeats various times that night.

“Be good.” Was all that came out in a husky wash, you groaned back.

His hands slithered up to your clit, using his thumb to rhythmically run in circles. You did what you could to keep your thighs open wide.

“Fuck me hard.”

Bruce complied not because you insisted but because you were rubbing his bulge tirelessly throughout his own tease on you. You were both wary on a thin line of restraint.

He brought you close, you snuggled lovingly into his hips, his thick length pressed deep in you as you smiled with ecstasy, and he plunged deep within and like the hypnotist that he is, the action was that of the click of therapists fingers, you were under his spell, your hips rolled in.

The pace picked up as his gripped worked tightly, pulling your hair, fixing himself in place.

_“Fuck.”_   You two ran through a fast pace picking up speed, he slapped your bare ass again as you came and in turn so did he.

“Fuck yes…” He finished your sentence.

“Want to finish off with a complimentary blowjob?” You offered, your eyes milky with mystique.

Bruce scoffs then resumes his usual stick up the butt stature like he was back in the boardroom.

Clicking his neck once, “The night’s still young.” He smirked.

The man with the ostentatious velvet black suit, buttons unscrewed and untethered running a line of muscle through a thin stretch of v-neck. Hair tassel and a pure mess, an unlit fresh cigarette tucked behind his ear. An after sex relaxing smoke, a habit or more like a tradition. His legs lazed away from one another, slouching dimly across the bed’s side rim. His hand gripping securely on his glass top nightstand, leaving lasting temporary clues of tonight’s ecstasy.

A suck and a pull from your lips from his tip where pre-cum freed itself freely, dripping down your fingers like thin white silky lace.

Bruce’s eyelids flicker from passion, from what only a sexual performance could bring, his lips were wet and bitten tender, you could see his breathing brush his loose clothing tirelessly.

Your mouth after a pleasing smile, brought itself back to work, tongue roughly licking down the line of his shaft to the tip as your hand gripped its base loosely.   
_“Shit!”_   He exhaled passionately as ribbons of white leaks through your lips, you wiped it clean with the back of your hand before getting up.

Bruce’s face was a pleasant scarlet, his eyes still pretty when shut. He was the most naked then, to you, you felt that anyway. A man needn’t strip his clothes but to beg for the passion of pleasure and expose himself freely as he did so.

Caressing his neck, you trailed soft passionate kisses down his chest, before suddenly he made you pause, his hand latched to your chest then sprang away.

“That’s it for today.” He barely ushered to you and you complied, wondering if something was wrong.

_Something had to be wrong right? After that good performance._

“Bruce?”

He was still heaving, his fingers lathered his matted hair.

“Nothing wrong, just enough.” A shaky laughter swept through him like a blow of wind before he cradled his head between his knees, you stood there a little awkwardly feeling the air a little more than stale.

Gulping, you took a hand and caressed it gently, afraid he would swipe it away. He didn’t.

“You can talk to me.”

You wanted him to talk about it after all.

“You’re great, baby. Real great.” A rush of a breath but it was genuine, you smiled down at him sadly despite his head still boring to the ragged carpet.

“But?” You presumed that had to follow a but, _it’s not you, it’s me_ that sort of ordeal.

He looked up then, your hand dropped but he brought you closer, his hands on your love handles.

“No buts.”

His head now weighed down on your chest, cushioning against your breasts as they raise and fell rhythmically.

“Is this... “ You sigh thinking it’s worth a shot. “About Selina.”

His silent laughter shook into nothing and you had to look down at him to reassure that he was in fact okay.

Laughing out of spite, his usual nature, maybe he feels a little better at least.

“Right as always, Babe.”

Bruce flops back in defeat, resigning on his satin silky bed sheets, looking at his reflection on the mirrored ceiling. A rain of reality staring at him, judgement bestowed on him.

“You wanna talk about it?” You asked scratching your arm, watching him tentatively.

One considerable look at you, you in your thong, you must say, it isn’t the best of looks to stand awkwardly, shuffling on your feet in but he collectively pulls you in by the waist so your head sits perfectly in the nook of his arm.

Bruce’s fingers dance a chilling show, down your chest and you sigh in almost relief.

“You know, I told you about Selina leaving after I proposed to her?”

You nod slightly, feeling the chill from his fingers bring a shiver down your spine.

“There was more to it than that.”

You glance up at him, he was watching the two of you in the reflection above still, his stare dark, and ambiguous.

“She was pregnant.” His hands stopped their merry dance and he flung it to support his head.

He chewed on a spiteful laughter, “I was so happy when I heard, happy for the both of us I guess, she suddenly became distant… removed.”

You stared up at the reflection too now, a semi-naked pair bored down miserably back at you.

“There was a point I came home and she was just in the bathtub, the water cold, she was just staring at the tinkering taps, dripping small ounces of water little by little, hypnotised almost.”

Bruce rubbed his eyes and pinched his nose, this was bringing up some rough-edged memories. Who knows, this could have been the first time he has really ever spoken about this out loud.

“I carried her, dried her, dressed her and put her in bed. She was silent. It was probably a week later until I came home once again and I saw a note on the table.”

“It was a confirmation letter actually, with a sticky note with my name on it.”

“She wanted me to see it, and by then it was already too late, she was never to be found but she was never really missing. Just to me, she was.”

A low whistle broke out of your tightly pursed lips, you asked in a hushed voice, “What was the letter?”

Bruce’s voice without missing a beat responded, “It was to confirm the abortion.”


	4. Episode Four

**PART IV.**  
It’s been four months of this.

Four months of Clark having his clothes off more than on.

Bruises like blooming watercolour flowers constellated his body. The ones on his inner thighs and neck are his favourite.

And four months of no holding back, gluttonous fucking, Bruce’s red hot dick in his mouth. Syrupy cum running down his thighs as he saunters about his apartment, freshly fucked as if to demonstrate his dominance.

Clark has accepted that Bruce was the pinnacle of his happiness, his soul-zapping love affair. He was also aware of the unhealthy connotations that came along with it, reliance on his money now to seep through his bodiless life at the expense of college.

Really, he didn’t know how all of this worked, if there were ever boundaries of gross attachment, Bruce lacked the clearance. Clark had slept more often in Bruce’s bed than his own (which was simply a futon drifting in various parts of his littered bedroom floor).

More so Bruce had given him the keys to the apartment, for his own enjoyment, the exception was various days he wasn’t allowed in it.

“They’re cleaning days,” Bruce mentioned to him one night, nonchalant, looking at his fingernails. For some reason, Clark highly doubted so.

It was a Friday and Bruce had put on _Inherent Vice_ on his 4K tv, the white back-light poured glamorously around its frame, the credits flickered onto black and Clark vaguely witnessed his exposed self, in a black layered bra and matching leg harnesses simply a thong to cover his decency, all cosied up against Bruce.

Actually, as Clark witnessed that domestic tableau, an almost sickly hiccup shuttered in his chest. It was a vaguely familiar feeling, one he forcefully attempted to overlook because it was the same feeling he caught himself growing for Babe.

Clark worried what this implication meant.

Bye bye, money

And more importantly.

Bye bye, Bruce.

That arched some icy anxiety into his veins. He wanted to talk to Bruce, _really_ talk to him. Glancing at his profile, he felt something pull at his gut.

_Shit._   
_Okay, I mean it can’t hurt if I just don’t say it out loud and act upon it._

What bullshit.

Bruce shuffled in his seat a little, tense under Clark’s drilling stare.

“Got something on my face?”

He asked with a smile before gripping onto Clark’s hand, running his thumb in circles.

“Nothing more than the usual cocky one I love seeing,” Clark answered back, feeling like his heart could plummet out of his chest any moment now.

Bruce scoffed, he leaned in closer and Clark’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“You love seeing my cocky face, or you love seeing your cock in my face?” He asked inches away from Clark, now flushing. Bruce’s smile soft and light, one far from what Clark had seen, shrouded with secrets in the first few days he was getting to know him.

Clark’s teeth snatched against his bottom lip as he considered this, “Both is good.”

With a smile, he gently held onto Clark’s head and pulled him into a hot enticing lock of lips, Bruce’s tongue slipping and sloppily hugging his.

Bruce pulled in the halter buckle tight where it tugged slightly against Clark’s neck. He pulled Clark onto his lap as he quickly rummaged to unzip. Clark was impatient, a new hunger that he had avoided to deal with tugged emotionally and seductively at his navel.

“This is your night, Clark, baby.” Bruce mused through the cascade of caress and smooching.

He only started calling Clark by his name less than a month ago. Clark would instantly go hard hearing such a thing in Bruce’s gruffly sexed up voice.

“Eat me out.”

Bruce was already unbuckling the parts of his harness that gave restriction. “As you wish.”

Clark pulled Bruce’s head up as he looked outpouring at him through the flush of the TV’s back-light.

“Eat ass like you mean it.” He ushered, knowing Bruce’s dick was itching to get some action itself.

Clark made a small squeeze at Bruce’s bulge, and a whistle blew through the man’s teeth, Clark was pretty proud of himself, to keep the man expecting but never getting. That was his usual job but not tonight.

Bruce showed no mercy, it was obvious he was a pro at everything. Pre-cum was hot and heavy down Clark’s length, wanting that attention.

“Fuck me, fuck me hard.”

It was one beat maybe-   
Two.

The force of Bruce’s thick form now gaping through Clark’s tight hole, as he gripped tightly and rubbed his length. Clark was weak at his knees. They were both on the soft carpet now, Clark’s face rough and stinging with carpet burn. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t. When his ass was being pounded.

_From the one I love._

“Yes… yes, Bruce!” That was enough for Bruce to ride out his own climax, Clark’s hands masked in his own sweat and a mix of cum.

He turned overexposed, his chest heaving but light. He felt free.

Bruce fell against the floor beside him, rushing his fingers through Clark’s messy hair where then he joined his hand with his on Clark’s chest, both watching as the joined hands rise and fell against the breathing’s tide.

“I think…”

But Clark shook his head, changing his mind, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Bruce nudged his shoulder gently with his, “Go on.”

He looked up at him then, his charcoal eyes looking down in his, the reflection of the night sky bringing some serenity down on earth.

“I think I love you.”

  
**PART IV-II.**   
_It’s not what you think but…_

_Maybe it is._

_It doesn’t matter, though does it? This was just a fling, to begin with._

You were in Gotham City University’s library, the wall clock had been emphasising its loss in keeping up with time but you looked at the obnoxious 5:23 staring down at you.

The real-time? A pure mystery.

You knew that it was sometime in the early hours of the morning, probably 2… maybe 4. You brought a duvet expecting this.

It was nearing the end of the year which meant a shit ton of exams and essays to be dealt with, which also meant never moving your butt off that sofa in the group booths at the library.

You had your eyes closed, your index fingers meeting at your lips in a prayer position, You looked like an old sage found in the mountains somewhere with a duvet as a large shawl dosed over you. As you been awake and at work on your projects for so long at this point you couldn’t tell if you were falling asleep or just resting your eyes.

_It didn’t help._

_None of it did, but it’s worse than it happened now of all times._

“You there? Or do I need to do all this work myself… again?” Addie was rattling her knuckles against your head and you grabbed her wrist to make her stop.

“Please don’t…” Mumbling through the taxing night.

“Don’t what? Work on our assessment that’s due in a few hours time, I don’t think so, kid. You better snap awake now or I’m going to have to dose you in ice cold water.” You look at her with stony eyes, she was chewing the lid of her pen and just gave you raised eyebrows as if to say, _try me._

You slapped your head on your folded arms on the table.

“Now’s not the time.”

“Now’s never the time, Babe.” A beat. “You wanna talk about the dick or?”

“His dick or the fact that he’s an imbecile that is the personification of said dick that is completely limp and useless, by the way?”

“Well, we’re definitely in need of talking about it, whatever _it_   is.” Addie laughed mirthlessly before sliding onto your side of the couch.

The truth is, you didn’t say anything to Adélaïde, not at the start. One moment you were over the moon, like a girl in a chick flick, just as elated with the pure horny sensations you got with Bruce filled that hole (no pun intended) from any romance necessary, then the next moment, it was all out of your grasp. The thing is if you were wondering why it hurt so much when he cut you off, he could do that anytime but you suppose there was still strings attached, there was just this new attachment you had no name for it yet, now it was too late to be discovered.

Then she asked, “Bruce?”

And you responded simply, “Bruce.” All the clarification she needed.

Though you were enough worse for wear to put even Adélaïde’s degree in jeopardy, you supposed she cared enough for you too.

You see, there wasn’t much to the story. Bruce had decided to try something new on you.

Fisting. Yup.

You had no idea where he got that idea from, apparently, he was pretty new and excited about it too. Luckily you came in well prepared.

Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, Bruce was behind you, stripping you with his icy tender fingers from your light lacy playsuit that hardly hid a thing.

Until you were left with your knee-high socks and PU leather suspenders, you found the little metal hearts cute and endearing despite what you were usually up to while wearing them.

And before you knew it, his tireless grunting grew like aching white noise ringing in your ears, your skin prickling with the usual goosebumps. His dick working hard pumping in and out from your ass.

“Now?”

He meant shoving his whole hand up your fucking ass.

“Geez, yes.” You were already close. His cock pulled out an airy sigh was released from you.

“Quit tensing up, babe or it’ll hurt.”

You nod slightly, “Right…” you try to relax like really, try.

You inhaled sharply as his hand crept in, a finger at a time, he seemed to know what he was doing.

“Bruce… shit, this is…”

“Good, right?”

A silent nod was the only response you could do. You were seeing a white blank sheet, stars floating in your mind and saliva wetting your lips.

You could hardly hear anything but your panting and that even seemed miles away, the rushing blur of ushering Bruce’s name.

_Thank fucking god for the invention of lube. Fuck me._

Then came the slow movements from the twitch of his fingers.

_Shit! Is he trying to kill me from the inside out?_

You buckled your hips slightly and you felt his grasp with his other hand on them.

“Careful.” Bruce breathed his own voice hitching at the end.

Your fingers were cramped at how stiffening tight they were holding onto the pillowcase.

“Time’s up, Babe.” With one slow movement, his hand reversed engineered itself and came out from where it came from.

A second… third? Orgasm elapsed your tireless erratic breathing and a fulfilling wetness gathered between your thighs.

Taking a moment to regain yourself, you rolled to look at Bruce but he was already up washing his hands.

He wandered off to the small balcony overlooking from his bedroom, lighting a smoke. He was still completely naked. His asscheeks out fanning in the wind.

The pitter-patter of your bare feet sauntered on the black granite made him look to the side where you reached the railing beside him.

“You okay there?” You asked. Bruce simply blew silver smoke through his nostrils.

“I’ve been watching the city a lot too.” You mentioned, in a dream-like state. Your legs still felt a little weak and wobbled a little in the small breeze.

He still didn’t want to talk, so you continued anyway. “Me and my… best friend, well I don’t know if I can call him that anymore but yeah, well we used to go on his rooftop in the morning and watch the sunrise. It’s silly I know but it’s… nice.”

There wasn’t a lot of _nice_  these days. Just a lot of fucking. Sometimes it was a synonym for nice, sometimes it was just escapism from any real problems.

Smiling to yourself you were caught off guard, Bruce’s hand reached your cheek you jumped a little on touch.

“Your smile is sweet, Babe. It’s genuine.”

You smiled a little more at the compliment wondering what’s got into him.

He retracted his hand and went back looking afar, at the city below. “What’s your friend’s name? He seems nice, you mention him a lot.”

You blinked. _I guess I do, I just don’t really think much about it._

You also guessed it was mostly off-handed comments, something you were always used to in conversations.

_Oh, my best friend and I do that all the time!_

My friend- oh, he would love that!

You’ve just grown attached to it. To him. Even now.

You weren’t too sure if either Clark or Bruce knew that you knew about the two hanging out with each other on the side of your own endeavours with Bruce, but you swung the bat nevertheless, thinking it couldn’t hurt.

“Clark Kent.” His name rolling off your tongue like the familiar road you live on. “We used to be close friends, knew him since I could remember.”

Bruce was picking his fingernails while his cigarette grew small and fading between his lips.

“So, what changed?” His voice was wispy, sterile. Broken.

_You._   
  
_I guess, he changed that’s for sure. But haven’t I changed? Didn’t I just want to go out with him because I had this whole image of our old selves fused in the back of my brain? Chiselling with the resurfacing reality that was before me? We were two puzzle pieces fixed for friendship but that was it, there wasn’t another set of a puzzle where a loving relationship could have laid._

_He ruined that._   
_I… ruined that._   
_Was it too late to bring it all back? Take a step back._

“I thought he was the love of my life once, but then I realised,” You laughed silly to yourself “there’s so much more out there I didn’t know about myself.”

“Like adoring fisting?”

You snorted and punched his bicep. Sure, it didn’t even feel like a pinch.

“Shut up. I mean, he’s really been the only guy I really knew in my life, the only… one of two people I knew in my life that close, even. So, I guess I just floated to one of the closest and longest running nicest things.”

Bruce flicked his cigarette into the sky. “Why don’t you tell him that then? Throw yourself away from looking for love for once, I did that.”

You looked up. “How’s that going for you?”

He clicked his neck, “I don’t think I had much of a choice in that one.”

It was your turn throwing advice at him, “Maybe to some extent, but you shouldn’t give up forever.”

Bruce rubbed his lower lip, amused. “You’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?”

Shrugging, you started pacing back and forth lightly around the balcony, it was hard to keep still, all of a sudden.

“I don’t know, it’s just we had a small fight.”

“And that’s that?”

“Maybe…”

  
The day after when it was still dark outside and you felt the dampening exhaustion take over your body, you picked up your phone, forgetting to turn it off the night before, and regretting it sourly.

**(1) Notification - Billionaireboyzclub sent you $30,000**

That woke you up, sitting bolt right, your sleepy head couldn't follow. Sure, Bruce sent you money alongside many gifts and everything on your wishlist all the time but straight up this amount without any context… in the middle of the night?

Your phone buzzed in your hands again, you rubbed your eyes dancing around with a washed-up glare.

You opened it.

**Bruce**  
Babe… It’s been great, truly, but after our convo, I decided.

**Bruce**  
It’s probably best to end things here. See the world, Babe, just the way you said. Talk to Clark, be the friends you should and have always been.

**Bruce**  
Idk but whatever you choose, you should do better than a beaten up old CEO like me, I sent you your last payment. Should help a little with this year at college.

Your head slammed back immediately cushioned by your pillows.

“Well, then.”

  
At first, you didn’t think much of it, the next day, a little dazed maybe, I mean that’s a lot for your mouth to chew on but there was also something nagging you.

“You alright there, tiger?” Adélaïde was prodding you with the eraser side of her pencil.

The lecture hall was empty and everyone was already gone, you wondered how long ago class had ended.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You slammed your bag on your back and walked out of the double doors.

You supposed it had to do with the fact that, whether you liked it or not, you were growing some sort of attachment to Bruce.

_Real daddy issues, that’s for sure._

It was in your nature of being sentimental and filling that gaping hole in your chest that Clark gracefully left you, and that was it.

But you also felt off with how Bruce acted the day before or how he was slowly growing cold and closed off recently. You didn’t want to leave him if it meant leaving him miserably.

Adélaïde was trying to feed you her _Batburger_   burger at lunch, her special treat because in her words, you were “off whack” all day, whatever that meant.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bull. You’re always hungry.” You take a bite, satisfying her side of the argument.

You decided what to do next.

  
You were grateful.

Grateful that there were so many balconies and rooftops to stare down the universe from.

Grateful that Adélaïde worked tooth and nail with you to finish that godforsaken assessment and now it’s finally goddamn over.

And grateful for that seven o’clock sunlight. And alcohol never forgets the booze.

Sitting on the floor with your legs dangling through the fourth-floor balcony railing you took a sip of one of the many small bottles of cheap red wine that made its fence around your sitting area.

There were still quite a few students roaming about, little larger than ants from your perspective, you giggled slightly as one boy you recognised from your class, dramatized his efforts in his assessments with large arm motions.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.”

You weren’t fazed to hear Clark’s voice whistle behind you as he slowly slumped down between the railings beside you with a loud sigh.

“Finished all my assessments, got all these bottles of wine, what’s not to enjoy in life?” You meant it. You felt like you were on top of the world at that moment.

Clark’s smile was small, it didn’t reach his eyes, he didn’t look as free as you felt.

“What? Already got your grade back and failed?” You half laughed, he didn’t return it. “Clark, what happened?” This time you asked seriously, a little concerned.

“I don’t know.” A humourless chuckle where he leaned back a little and his fingers ran down his mouth in thought. “I don’t know…” He repeated a little more to himself now.

Through a spontaneous action, you grabbed his hand and he squeezed back looking into your eyes he said, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too. Like, really sorry.” You smiled genuinely, feeling your chest feel a little lighter already.

And by the looks of things, he was surprised by the apology which only made you a little perkier. You handed him one of your wine bottles.

Clark takes the offer with a question, the air seemed a little rich now and he budged a little to sit closer to you. “Why didn’t you just get one big normal sized bottle if you were planning to drink so much?”

You nudged him in a friendly protest and shrugged, “Helps me visualise myself exercising some restraint by having smaller volumes in individual bottles.” You take a gulp and continued, “I guess this placebo effect was an utter failure.”

Clark clinked his bottle to yours at that.

After a moment you decided to pipe up in the awkward silence, “I saw you and Bruce together a while back.”

Clark goes slightly rigid, “Yeah.” He took a sip looking remorseful over at where a few guys down below were playing basketball.

“What? He dumped you too?” You were joking but while you were taking a sip of your drink, you paused as he spoke.

Clark’s eyebrows knitted in thought but then shook his head and looked away, “Suppose so.”   
  
You scooched over and took his hand, it was cold but he gripped you tightly with a soft appreciative smile.

“What happened?”

He heaved out a long breath and leaned back on the cold concrete, you scooted around and leaned against the railing patiently.

“Everything was perfect. I…” He gave you a quick apologetic look and then went looking back towards the sky. “I signed myself up for that sugar daddy thing, just out of spite,” another look, “I’m sorry, I really am.” You shook your head and squeezed his knee this time.

“We did our apologising, remember, Clark.” You hiccuped.

“Still.” He was rubbing his face with his hand now, far from his usual jaunty self. “So, I did it out of spite against you but I don’t know, I didn’t expect any of this. I didn’t expect I would...” He sat upright and put his head between his knees. “I didn’t expect to gain feelings for him.”

“Oh.” You said but you smiled thinking how you could see that happening. _Guess you’re over me then._ You thought only half joking.

“Clark, that’s-”

“Terrible, I know, as soon as I told him he just stopped replying to my messages and I haven’t heard from him since.”

You guessed that’s why Bruce also stopped his contact with you, he had a lot to think about, and- oh that reaction he had when you mentioned Clark, was it hurt? Jealousy, even?

You suddenly became pissed and furious for Clark, yeah it’s not meant to be a strings attached ordeal but Bruce sounded like he cared for Clark. Or at least you assumed.

“Fuck this!”

Clark’s head jumped up to attention, his stare quizzical, a rabbit in a quiet woods just to be intruded by a loud human.

“You should talk to him, he seems like he cares for you, shit more than he does for me, in that way anyway.”

Clark got up, kicked lightly against the railing where it made an earthly _ting!_

“I don’t know, Babe…”

You got up too, feeling yourself wobble a little where Clark grabbed you, balancing you, you smiled appreciatively.

“I say you already lost as much as you could lose in this battle-“

“-Oh thanks.”

“But hear me out, what’s a little explaining gonna do? Nothing, just clear your conscience.” Another hiccup came out of your mouth rather grotesque this time.

Everything went a little foggy from the alcohol after that but the last thing you remember was Clark’s goofy loved-up smile.


	5. Episode Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally made it.  
> I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone that gave kudos, bookmarked, just so much as glanced at my work. Every little bit counts, especially as I was planning to give up on this piece several times. Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed.

**PART V.**  
For the longest time, Clark didn’t think he was the type to fall in love. No, it wasn’t that, it was the fact that he dreamed every day of the very idea of love, to be consoled in the warming arms of his lover, protected for what it would seem like an eternity in that little inkling of time but he didn’t want it to go further than that, a small ounce of a fairy tale dream prodding reality but nothing more.

He knew reality sucked, and for a bisexual guy like him where his parents were a little okay with it but not completely, he’s been a bit reserved about love ever since.

Dating, sure, but if it looked like someone was going to pin him down, lock him for good when he himself wasn't ready, that was where he went off to the hills.

So when his best friend suggested he should try this whole true love bullshit thing for once, like really give it a chance this time, after all the crap that occurred or more like initiated with the said best friend, excuse him for being a sceptic.

“You sure this is the place?” A cliché. He felt like a walking and living cliché. Another moment rinsed in those thoughts he sourly wished to ebb away from.

Babe gave Clark a 'you’re not getting out of this one, stop asking' stare, or so he interpreted.

“Chill a little, farm boy.”

Clark made a sour look and Babe laughed out loud, “what?” She started pausing both of them in their tracks, “he calls you that during sex or somethin’?”

Clark didn’t reply, though the bruising red rooted deeply in his cheeks only to sprout forth to his neck like a radical sunburn, said it all.

Bruce went out to drink in his lonesome, every Friday late afternoon at the same cocktail bar on the upper side of Gotham City. The cocktail bar was rinsed with glossy jet black marble and rich dark granite, where the ceiling always seemed to stare back down at its guests with each of its many grandiose chandeliers dancing its diamonds as the breeze chimed through the riveting doors.

Clark dressed to the nines for the occasion, he wore a jet black suit, something he knew Bruce would love, a glint of a satin shine from the collars in contrast to the rest of the suit jacket's soft velvet. His flamboyance flared and his confidence showed no mercy, it was finally the time he had been waiting for.

Sauntering deeper into the bar, where the clientele knew nothing more but the name that handled the man’s attire, their eyes implored, they glowered and oh did they wonder. _Who is this Wonderboy, where did he come from?_

“Look at you flaunting,” Babe stated marvellously only making Clark puff up as a peacock would spreading its splendid tail feathers for all to admire and may even adhere. In some ways, it only sparked Clark more.

Clark was only able to give a half smile back though as he stopped in his tracks noticing a familiar figure sitting by the stools marked off by pillars, finding solace at the bottom of his glass. He was in the middle of a whimsical laughter, an off-handish joke from the soiree bartender maybe. Bruce Wayne had a way of making you feel good about yourself when spoken to if he chose to.

“Do I look okay?”

“Clark, you look ravishing, just go.”

She pushes him and within a couple of paces he was back in his march, the suit he wore spoke for itself and it did wonders, no more poor ol’ farmboy, no more cheapskate college kid, he was one of them, until Bruce flashed an attentive look at him and he couldn’t help but fall slightly over his last few steps to only smoothly recover again falling elegantly into the spinning bar seat beside him.

“One Sex On The Beach please.” Clark points a finger up to grasp attention, only a little too out of breath considering.

The bartender nods leaving the two men alone, Bruce licks the rim of his cocktail glass, his eyes never leaving Clark’s.

“Look at you all made up.” Bruce trails, picking up a cherry from the napkin he left out, now sucking at it slowly, fruitfully. Clark couldn’t help but goggle at him, fascinated, fluctuated with everything he had in him.  
  
“It’s nothing.” He dismissed it with a small cough but inwardly his heart did a marathon or two.

“That’s Tom Ford. Mr Ford is more than nothing, Clark.” Bruce plucked up the cherry completely between his teeth, some of the pink juice crept down thinly from the edge of his lips, blood from the vampires fangs, somehow it was a little bit of a turn on for Clark.

Clark didn’t really think more like he saw his thumb tentatively cleaning it up before he was considering snapping back its ownership, Bruce took hold of his hand gently before he could do anything more, made it caress his own face gently. His eyes soft and cumbersome, Clark sighed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Clark said more sternly now, snapping out of his trance.

Bruce gave him a funny look like he’s in on his own inside joke.

“I’m doing exactly what you wanted from me, Clark.”

Clark shook his head, his stomach full of butterflies and his head full of loud wasps washing out any clear thorough thought, his body was some crazy greenhouse haven for all kinds of bugs.

Bruce drops Clark's hand to the desk and pats it while taking his drink. Clark’s drink arrived but only his fingertips danced around the glass’ neck, averting his gaze from anything but the shiny surface of the counter top, his reflection distorted, foreign.

“I don’t know what I want anymore Bruce, because the thing is, every time I want something the other person doesn’t want it.” He looked at Bruce pointedly, Bruce didn’t shy away from his gaze.

In turn, he wiped his eye and sighed.

“What? I’m not wrong am I?”

Clark didn’t back down, he needed answers, he didn’t want to dive into the deep end without dipping a toe in it first.

“Clark, I have some explaining to do.”

Clark arched his eyebrows as if to say, _continue, I’m not waiting here all day._

“You and your friend,”

_Babe? Is it to do with her? Is he in love with her, is that what all this is?_

“What’s your beef?”

Clark was confused, “What do you mean?”

Bruce got closer to Clark now, he went rigid by instinct, his whole body hungry for more but fear crept down his spine, a slither of coolness drizzling down, he could not move an inch. A huge waft of Bruce’s cologne enticed him, spicy but soft, just the way he had always had it, something so familiar to Clark, something that makes him feel like home as soon as he smells it.

“I mean... are you two in love?”

He looked like he was about to flee, afraid of any answers, Clark brought him back down to earth, grasping his hand tightly, not wanting to let go, not again. He won’t allow it.

“No, Bruce, we thought we were once upon a time but it wasn’t what we thought, we’re fine now as friends but all I want is you. I want you and I want so much more for us.”

Bruce had let go, got out of his seat and chuckled under his breath as he rubbed his lower lip.

“What?”

“You think you love me, you don’t, you don’t know anything but the way I look under these clothes.” He slowly walks away, Clark stops him, pulls him to the side into the shadows of the bar where no one eye could pry on their secrets.

“You think that but I know you well, Bruce.” His stare switches between Bruce’s yielding look and his lips, plump, moist, ready to be touched by another, wanting so hard to kiss them again, to smother them the way they should be. “I know that you’re struggling thanks to Selina, that you’re afraid to open up again just in case they’ll flee again well heads up Bruce you became the one you feared. You fled from me, left me hanging, but I won’t leave your side, not this time.”

For a while Bruce just looks at him, Clark wanted to scream and cry, wanted anything to feel the love he has for him thrown back at him.

Until Bruce grabbed his tie and pulled him into a strong holding kiss, sloppy, yearning and desperate. Full of qualm and the need to conquer it.  
“I love you, Clark, don’t leave me.”

Clark smiles, runs circles around Bruce’s cheek when his thumb felt something wet run down from the corner of Bruce’s eye, “Never.”

 

It was formidable but undeniable, Clark wanted this all along. He was just afraid to touch the very idea of it, to spring it into action, but the day had finally come.

The rooms were immeasurable, sweeping its sheer vastness and yet had consumed every inch of its space, filled every nook and cranny with spectacles, of luxurious furniture bordered with old but delicately intricate varnished wood, windows were draped with lengthy black heavy drapes leading to piddling pools of fabric on the darkly burnished floorboards.  
But in his room, Bruce’s, otherworldly, yet somehow, exactly everything Clark had dreamed of. Copious of small entities though nothing too personal, it didn’t seem like it would be Bruce’s room if it were filled to the brim with his secrets. Instead, it was full of awards, full of delicate bottles of colognes, of glasses to pour his rich whisky full of its almondy hues. But there, in the corner of the overly crowded shelf beside his bed was one small picture frame, that of himself when he was a child partnered with his parents.

Everything else was robbed from daylight, marooned with different tones of blacks and greys. _Just like Bruce._ Clark’s lips could only turn upwards at that afterthought.

“I feel like Daisy.”

“Who?”

Bruce’s voice came from behind him, lingering near the bed, Clark turned to his voice, had always been longing for that far away calling he could now finally reach.

“Daisy, Jay Gatsby’s muse, lover, whatever from Great Gatsby.”

As soon as Clark reached back to him, Bruce pulled him close, “How so?” His eyes darted between Clark’s then a snap looks down between his thighs, witnessing Clark’s usual hardship with self-control.

He clears his throat, “You’re finally showing me your beautiful mansion when its off limits to others.”

“You’re like no other.” Bruce bites down on Clark’s ear, a nibble that made Clark want to consume Bruce in his arms… and other places.

Clark pushed Bruce onto his bed, he was already naked, bare against the shining light that dosed him from the window that framed the king-sized plumped bed full of its usual satin and furry overthrows. He looked miraculous, Clark couldn’t believe Bruce had chosen him, so small and uninspiring compared to the many others that showed the opposite circumstance that littered about the planet, even in just Bruce’s already large social sphere.

He smiled so ridiculously and bit gently onto one of bruce’s nipples knowing he was tender there.

“Clark…” His groggy voice, so deep with wanting, raw with something that Clark could not put a finger on, it only made Clark’s sex stir more.

“Hush now, I’m in charge for today.” Clark loved taking over, loved seeing Bruce wriggle under such beautiful pleasure and accepting everything Clark gave him because he knew like Clark knew, they both were very much familiar with what each other adored, craved, hungered for, it’s been a year of intimacy. A year of knowing the other like the back of their hands.

 

The dining room was like an over-glamorized dining hall for two, large table dosed with a thin red wiry cloth that couldn't cover its large expanse, with so many chairs only one was sat in while the two were partaking breakfast. Bruce had Clark’s legs on his lap as Clark sat on the armrest, said armrest was close to giving in to the pressure.

“Al wouldn’t-”

“Come back early?” Bruce shakes his head smiling to himself, a scheme he planned for a while.

“Just the two of us today, I’m afraid.”

 

Clark had his head on Bruce’s lap, only his bathrobe to cover his decency, strawberries being fed to him graciously as they sat on a hill overlooking Wayne’s property. It was a little weird seeing the hollowing, reclusive Wayne manner sit so patiently, so still, for one day to be filled with permanent occupant other than its small current residence of two, relying on one old man tired of the younger man’s ways. When it is so used to its temporal guests, the ones that rejoice for parties and its own gracious ways to only be fleeing when the night is done. It really was like Great Gatsby after all.

“I don’t deserve you.” Bruce randomly piped up.

The air was fresh and sharp as if every word spoken through it was brand new. There was a thin rainbow in the distance behind the trees on the horizon, it had been raining for weeks, but today, the first sunlight for a while.

“That’s my line.” Clark sat up propping his head on Bruce’s shoulder, Bruce started to twirl the curls of Clark’s hair distractedly between his index finger and thumb.

“Maybe we’re just as bad as the other.” Clark looked up at him as he said that, a little sceptical, Bruce chuckled at that, his whole torso jumping up and down making Clark’s head tremble. “Well…” Bruce brought the champagne in its beautiful crystal flutes between them. He handed one to Clark then took his own, “A toast.”

Clark stares at him quizzically at the quick turnaround but was amused all the same, “For?”

Bruce attempted to hide his smile, he really did, but his stare gave it away, glancing at Clark’s glass at hand. Clark's eyes followed.

“No!”

“No?” Bruce was a little awestruck.

“No, as in no way, not no as in my final answer- my answer is yes, fuck, of course, yes!”

Bruce had his arms up in the air at once only to land down back on earth to smother Clark in his kisses, caress his cheeks as if he had just seen him for the first time and fell for him then, though as he pointed out, later on, that was exactly the case, it was, in fact, love, at first sight. He took out the ring from the drink sprinkling them with cold champagne.

“Sorry, it’s a little wet.”

“I’ve heard that too many times from you to be normal, Bruce.” Clark kisses him through his snickering, hastily one more time before quickly trying on the ring. “Marriage, huh? You sure you’re ready for this, with what happened, well, you know last time?”

“For you? Yes, always, for you.”


End file.
